I may not have told you Thanksgiving Day’s tale, but suffice it to say that the Mitchell clan was quarantined with 1 sinus infection, 3 ear infections, 1 case of bronchitis and 1 case of strep throat. Poor little 11-month-old Liam had two of the ear infections himself, and 3-year-old Lucas had the strep.
Fast forward to Christmas, and we were all feeling puny again. But, having been denied our Thanksgiving, we were resolutely determined that this holiday would be one we would celebrate no matter if we have expose everyone to whatever malady we’d been stricken with that time. We’d all been coughing ugly, hacking, wet coughs that constrict you for minutes at a time. But, as I said, we were resolute: Christmas must be ours.
But then came Christmas Eve night, and while my wife was getting ready for her family’s Christmas party (they neatly celebrate with the family on Christmas Eve night) and Little Liam was taking a nap, I took Lucas to bathe him (I was already dressed and ready to go). But when I took off Lucas’s shirt his skin felt very hot under my hands. I thought about it for a second and realized he hadn’t eaten very much at all that day, and then I looked closer at his torso and saw a few little red bumps. I took his temperature: 101.9. Christmas now was firmly forgotten and my wife and I spent the next six hours at Children’s Hospital in Birmingham monitoring Luke’s fever which at one point rose to 103. We did manage to get some fluids into him, and got his fever down and got the diagnosis: atypical chicken pox. Atypical because he’s had the CP vaccination and is supposed to be immune. Clearly, the CP vaccination needs work. The saddest part of the night was when, while shaking from the fever, Luke looked up at me with understanding eyes (those eyes were far away through much of the ordeal) and said, with the most pitiful voice ever, “Can we still go to the Christmas party?” All I could do was hug him and tell him that there would be other parties, and that he was a good boy, and I loved him very much.
By the time we left the hospital he was in good spirits, and we treated him to a cheeseburger at the only open restaurant in town (Waffle House) at 1 AM. Santa did pay us a visit, despite our irregular hours, and Luke and Liam awoke to a glorious gaggle of gifts surrounding our tree.
I became a parent late. My wife and I had Lucas when I was 35. Everyone told me it would change my life, and for the millionth time in the three years since we had him, I knew what they meant. I realized that I would gladly give everything I had, life included, if he could live a long and happy life. Those realizations are immensely stirring when that little boy’s skin feels like a hot plate, his head is sweating, his whole body is shaking uncontrollably, his eyes are vacant, and you’re afraid that he might die. How easy would it be to say, “My life for his?” In those moments, very easy indeed.
If you liked that post, then try these...
Happy Horny Werewolf Day on February 14th, 2006
Let the Festivus Madness Begin on December 21st, 2007
Dragon*Con Wrap on September 1st, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving on November 22nd, 2007
Let the Christmas Madness Begin on November 23rd, 2007
December 29th, 2007 at 9:15 am
I know how you feel Matt. We had kids in our thirties too and our youngest was born with a heart defect. He spent his first month of life getting and recovering from open heart surgery.
He’s going to be five next month and we are waiting to find out if this will be the year they need to open him up and go in for more plumbing changes to his heart.
When he went into surgery his first time, my wife and I were completely prepared to loose him. After all, the surgeon gave us his “he might not survive the operation” speech. We barely knew the little guy then. Not to mention the fact we were in a city far from home and in total shock from the event.
Now that Spencer is a person, full of life and love and quirks we are really regretting the next surgery. Not because he may die, that chance is always there but considerably lower this time around, but because he is a member of our family now and we all love him, even his big brother. It will hurt much more to watch him recover, but now we have an inkling of what he will be later in life and we want him to get there.
Every thing my kids do, the good and the bad, reminds me that they are my real legacy and my life right now revolves around them and only them. Parenthood is far more rewarding and challengingly than any other endeavor I have ever tried. I would not trade it for the world.
December 29th, 2007 at 10:05 am
Is it a foregone conclusion that he’ll have to be opened up again? Or is it possible his condition might have improved and he won’t need it now?
Beyond that, there’s not much I can say. You know how it feels better than I to be locked into a situation like that, so I’ll just let your words resound.
December 29th, 2007 at 11:03 am
Yea, his valves need replacing because, thankfully, he is outgrowing them. Plus they eventually wear out. He will most likely require some kind of invasive surgery every ten years or so of his life. We are hopeful that as time goes on the evasiveness of the surgery will be less than cracking him open. Medical technology is awesome stuff these days and Spencer is testimony to that.