The last five days of my life have been the most trying on every level. Simply, I found out my son has Asthma (have you ever heard a 10 month old gasp for breath like it was his last?) and I found out my cousin and good friend was called into active duty in the military.

The first call came Thursday as I heard that my cousins National Guard unit was called into full active duty and needed to prepare to ship out. We all understood that it is a role they have; from time to time they may have to be activated to help. No one was arguing that fact. But it did make me question to what level I was ready commit to this war. Right after the September 11th attack, the question was asked. It was in the papers, it was on the round-the-clock national news, it was on the lips of our nation’s leaders: what are we willing to do, what liberties are we willing to give up, to ferret out and destroy terrorism? But that question was posed in the collective, not the personal tense. What are we (American’s) willing to do? Not: What are we (me) willing to do?

I felt a wave of selfishness as I heard the next words. “There is still a chance we could get stood down,” my cousin said, “though it’s unlikely.” Yes, I hoped, you’ll get stood down and we can get back to football season, betting on who is going to be the CART champion, and introducing each other to a new found microbrew. Unlikely. As the day went on I learned he may be gone for a year.

So what am I willing to do for this war? It’s easy to say, yes Mr. President, do what you have to do to fight this. We support you, Mr. President. But what we really mean is, yes Mr. President, do what you have to do to fight this, just don’t call on me or anyone in my family. Yes, make our airports safer, but I really don’t want to stand in line for 2 hours. Yes, I’ll put up with it now, but in two years I’ll find it a nuisance. That is what everyone is thinking.

And Friday I had to sit at work and give a shit about my client’s profit margins. I had to sit there and think up solutions to their problems. Makes ya wonder about what you do and what good it really is.

That’s why we need to change the question. What am I willing to do, what am I willing to give up? I couldn’t help but think about that as I hugged my cousin earlier, not knowing when I’d see him again. My cousin, who is also the godfather of my son, whom will now miss his first birthday party. I got choked up as I said I’d miss him, and he got choked up as he told me not to worry.

Now I’m going to be living with this war everyday. I would have anyway, being a political junkie and lover of the red, white and blue. But now I’m going to be paying attention to it on another level, that is until my cousin comes home.

Saturday my son started wheezing. I was fearful from the start. I had grown up with bad Asthma, and some of my earliest childhood memories are of being in hospitals with inhalers and IV’s. After a long night and several phone calls with the doctor, we go in to see him on Sunday (yes, this office holds Sunday hours.) A few nebulizer treatments later, my son is breathing normally and finally relaxing.

Hearing a 10-month old gasping for breath will rip your heart out, plain and simple. Later in the evening, as I was holding him and he was yielding to sleep after a long sick day, I got choked up for a second time as I whispered, I’m sorry you got this bad stuff from me, little buddy.

I don’t know how it was for my parents, to have to live through it with me. But 28 years later I hope that the medicine is better and the technology is better so that it’s easier. There is just something so desperately unfair about kids being sick. I had to wonder am I now going to live through it again, just from the other side?

It all made me question reality, and where I fit in it.

So many questions, so few answers.