An Absentee Hockey Mom

After six months and one day of fighting a huge battle Nick has laced up and is guarding the net tonight in his first hockey game of the season. Instead of being at the arena with my coffee and my camera cheering his team on I am parked at my dining room table blogging.
 I just cant go, I am an anxious hockey mom at the best of times and I drive Dom crazy with my tendency to jump out of my seat or pace behind the chairs but watching Nick now would be too much for me and everyone around me. I can feel my heart race just thinking about his heavy equipment, his blood rapidly flowing, the concern about his picc plastic coming off and the possibility of infection from the contaminated sweat... what if he shares a water bottle with someone who is getting sick - ahh I'm such a mom!
Most of all I dont want to see the disappointment in Nick's eyes when he comes off the ice... whether his team wins or loses he will find fault in his personal game - thats just his nature.
Like me he sets the bar so high for himself... go big or go home, zero to sixty in seconds and anything less then perfection is unacceptable, its a curse that unfortunately I think both of my biological children have been born with.
Instead of being proud of the fact that despite having cancer he is out there playing he will instead focus on not skating fast enough, not having quick enough reflexes, being tired or will find fault in the league or the other players.
Tonight he spent hours pacing around the house internally battling about whether to play or sit the season out, he claims that its because this year there are two goalies on his team and he "doesn't think its fair that I paid 100% and he's only getting 50% of the ice time" but in reality I know that he is doubting his own abilities but doesn't want to openly admit it for fear of looking like a failure.
Whether he protects the net or not I am proud, I can only imagine that if I had cancer I would lay in my bed and feel sorry for myself but not Nick, he remains active and while he has his negative moments he really doesn't let cancer be the focus of his days.
Today as he debated about playing I told him to "let it be an early start of his normal life", he sort of huffed and mumbled "yeah... real normal".
Perhaps normal isn't the best word, what is normal really?
There's a saying that normal is only a setting on the washing machine - seems like a true saying to me. Maybe we should call it his new life or his different life instead.
I just need to find a term that doesn't make him huff and roll his eyes at me... cancer may attack many cells in the body but apparently the obnoxious teenage cells are immune.