Posted:Mon Jan 12, 2009 8:31 PM CST
Broken Heart and Fragile Hands
My ship struck an iceburg and sank along with my heart when the doctors diagnosed him with a heart defect. Aeortic Stenosis. A leaky valve in his little heart. A heart that was probably no bigger than a Kiwi.
"Correctable with surgery." I was told. That offered little comfort considering my little boy was so innocent and hadn't lived long enough tocause any sort of trouble like his old man did back in the day. How could a child be born with something wrong with him? What did he do prenatal that was so bad that he deserved to be born "defective"? Questions that became more philosophical to me than ones I really wanted answers to.The problem with that is it often turns questions reflecting self guilt...
What did I do to that my son has to be punished like this? Was it my denouncing of God at such a young age that acted as a catalyst in this health crisis? Did I smoke a little bit too much weed back in college? Did I puff one too many cigarettes? Was my son's health problem the result ofmy "living too fast"?
My boy was 3 when he went in for surgery. He was getting an angioplasti through the thigh and some coil work. I was there when they put in his IV. I was there when they put the mask over his face. I held his fragile hand and we both counted backward. 99....98....97... "Smells like chocolate." He said with eyes getting heavier and heavier.
89..88...87...(Fighter like his dad. He should have been out by now.) I squeezed his hand and he went limp.
A tear landed on his forehead as I kissed him "good luck." But my fear was that I may actually be kissing him "good bye."
Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital in Cleveland is known for one of the best Pediatric Cardiology departments in the world. However grand their credentials, things go wrong. People die. Innocent children die.
I was waiting the seemingly endless wait with my mom, sisters, aunts,uncles, nephews, and friends. Waiting for news with people Nick couldn'tyet fathom the importance of. He hadn't yet lived long enough to know. I paced like a 1950's expecting father. But I wasn't expecting the words,"It's a BOY!!" And no matter how many times the Dr. Sterba said it was aroutine procedure, I was expecting the words, "I'm sorry, we did all wecould do."
And they did just that....."All they could do."
----------------------------------------------------------------
And more. He is turning 14 in June. And he's a little trouble makerlike I was. Funny little son of a bitch, too! I'm proud!
He's restricted from playing some sports and lifting weights, but he knowsthat and it's cool with him.
Last year, and I hope it was from some sort of fatherly inspiration, he started writing stories. For a kid, he's pretty good at it. "Like father,like son." And mine is awesome.
Broken heart and all.
And I'll protect that heart until I am no longer able to do so.