Too Depressing to Read

M6.5 is having a hard time. His stair climbing is slow and struggling. He falls more this week than last and it's harder and harder for him to get up. His class field trip to Microscopic Farm included a long hike and plus I had to physically carry him onto the schoolbus (why are those steps so high?!).
He and I have a routine where we fake out those other kids by pretending to have a hug and he grabs me around the neck and I lift him by his tuchis. No one knows the difference. Otherwise, lifting him from under his arms is sort of an uncomfortable and fruitless endeavor for both of us. I see both of our futures clearly when we do this fake-out. It's an experiential excercise whereby I am transported to visions of Primero, older but the same maybe M12 now, being held in my arms to be rolled, maneuvered, put in a lift to be hoisted to the bathroom or moved from bed to chair without rolling over his working dog asleep at the foot of his bed. I see steroid injections, tests, horrible therapies, strangers in our house, Individualized Education Plans, Americans with Disabilities Act, many endless drs appts, prepping for surgery, breathing tubes, pointed toes in plastic braces, fighting to get into medical trials. I see staving off, always staving off, please keep everything we've got now, I see him trying, trying but not being able to walk and falling always falling.
I shouldn't post things like this. People who are pregnant read this. People with babies read this. People who know him read this. HusBAND reads this. But there's only so long that it can possibly be ok to COPE and finally the only thing left is to be overwhelmed and let it wash over you. All I can do today is cry.