Friday, October 13, 2006
Gussy - Part Two
If you haven't done so already, please read yesterday's post for a little background info.
We arrived at the hospital about 6:45 Tuesday night and met with Deb and Gussy in the family room outside the ICU. Deb was there for the second part of her 24-hour test where they determine whether she and Brian are ready to care for Gussy at home. They have been training for the past six weeks on how to set up and maintain everything that she needs on a daily basis. I'll spare you the details, but you can imagine that it is a lot of work.
We brought Gussy a couple of gifts that she seemed to like a lot and we talked with Deb for a little bit. Then another family came into the room with a panicked look on their faces. Deb recognized them immediately as their 2-year old daughter Michala had just left the hospital a few days before. Deb told us that their child had some disease that caused seizures, and that they were trying to get her medication adjusted when she was in the last time.
The little girl's uncle Pete told us that she had stopped breathing in the lobby, and that the doctors revived her and were attending to her. He was in remarkably good spirits considering the situation, I assume because this had become routine for them.
Rushing a child to the hospital had become routine.
Pete and I talked a bit and he eventually looked at my son and asked, "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," I said. "We're just visiting Deb and Gussy."
That's when it hit me. There is NOTHING wrong with my son. That is a little fact that I somehow overlook every single day. He is perfectly healthy, happy and thriving. What an incredible paradigm shift! I also started feeling a little guilty about that, but that was replaced with feeling blessed.
A few minutes later, the nurse came and brought the family in to see Michala. She had stabilized, but they were going to keep her for the night.
Through our whole visit, Jake sat quietly in his stroller, often reaching out to touch Gussy's hand. He was so good that I wasn't the least bit surprised he screamed in the car for the first ten minutes of our trip home.
We left around 8:15 and headed back home. I realized as I was walking out to the car that not every child that comes into Hasbro leaves alive. I thought about the pain that a person must feel to lose a child, and I couldn't imagine anything worse.
And again, I felt blessed.
Gussy will be going home next week with Deb and Brian. They both completed the training and passed the test. They had to move their bedroom furniture into the smaller room in their house so they could use their room for Gussy. All of the equipment that they need wouldn't fit in any other room.
These are two of our friends that go to our church and live in Rhode Island. All of these friends are the reason that we are moving there soon.
BTW – this is my 100th post.
We arrived at the hospital about 6:45 Tuesday night and met with Deb and Gussy in the family room outside the ICU. Deb was there for the second part of her 24-hour test where they determine whether she and Brian are ready to care for Gussy at home. They have been training for the past six weeks on how to set up and maintain everything that she needs on a daily basis. I'll spare you the details, but you can imagine that it is a lot of work.
We brought Gussy a couple of gifts that she seemed to like a lot and we talked with Deb for a little bit. Then another family came into the room with a panicked look on their faces. Deb recognized them immediately as their 2-year old daughter Michala had just left the hospital a few days before. Deb told us that their child had some disease that caused seizures, and that they were trying to get her medication adjusted when she was in the last time.
The little girl's uncle Pete told us that she had stopped breathing in the lobby, and that the doctors revived her and were attending to her. He was in remarkably good spirits considering the situation, I assume because this had become routine for them.
Rushing a child to the hospital had become routine.
Pete and I talked a bit and he eventually looked at my son and asked, "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," I said. "We're just visiting Deb and Gussy."
That's when it hit me. There is NOTHING wrong with my son. That is a little fact that I somehow overlook every single day. He is perfectly healthy, happy and thriving. What an incredible paradigm shift! I also started feeling a little guilty about that, but that was replaced with feeling blessed.
A few minutes later, the nurse came and brought the family in to see Michala. She had stabilized, but they were going to keep her for the night.
Through our whole visit, Jake sat quietly in his stroller, often reaching out to touch Gussy's hand. He was so good that I wasn't the least bit surprised he screamed in the car for the first ten minutes of our trip home.
We left around 8:15 and headed back home. I realized as I was walking out to the car that not every child that comes into Hasbro leaves alive. I thought about the pain that a person must feel to lose a child, and I couldn't imagine anything worse.
And again, I felt blessed.
Gussy will be going home next week with Deb and Brian. They both completed the training and passed the test. They had to move their bedroom furniture into the smaller room in their house so they could use their room for Gussy. All of the equipment that they need wouldn't fit in any other room.
These are two of our friends that go to our church and live in Rhode Island. All of these friends are the reason that we are moving there soon.
BTW – this is my 100th post.
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This is not an original thought, it's borrowed from elsewhere (I don't remember where), but when we see children with these problems we inevitably ask why and the why, I think (if there is one) lies in how we respond to them. They've been brought into the world to see what kind of people we are, how well do we love, how well do we ... respond. They are sacred in that way and should be seen as such. Most of us have pretty good opinions of ourselves, despite our down moments. But these children are here to ask the question, "What kind of balls do you really have?"
By the way ... the UN just released a report that says we treat children like toys in this world, healthy or unhealthy. I think it's a shameful indictment of who we really are in 2006. But I'll shuttup before I go on a rant. :-)
Anyway ... I think Jake is one lucky son-of-a-gun. He's landed in a good, good place. :-)
By the way ... the UN just released a report that says we treat children like toys in this world, healthy or unhealthy. I think it's a shameful indictment of who we really are in 2006. But I'll shuttup before I go on a rant. :-)
Anyway ... I think Jake is one lucky son-of-a-gun. He's landed in a good, good place. :-)
she is gorgeous....i am with you i can not imagine the pain to lose a child....i don't even like thinking about it...
I know how you feel about the guilty thing, but think about this: if your little guy was suffering, would you be able to help your friends? You would be too busy handling your own crisis.
God sent you a healthy, happy little guy. That leaves you able to reach out to your friends when they need you, because you have something to give them. If you were beside yourself with your own grief and worry, you wouldn't have any strength left to give them.
Plus, you have no idea how much lift little Gussie probably gets when Jake's little hand reaches out to touch hers. He could be vital her recovery. Don't underestimate that.
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God sent you a healthy, happy little guy. That leaves you able to reach out to your friends when they need you, because you have something to give them. If you were beside yourself with your own grief and worry, you wouldn't have any strength left to give them.
Plus, you have no idea how much lift little Gussie probably gets when Jake's little hand reaches out to touch hers. He could be vital her recovery. Don't underestimate that.
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