Update 5 - Eating popsicles

I’m reminded of Eric. He was 3 to 4 years older than me, but was more than a cousin; He was my best Friend. He never treated me like I wasn’t one of the guys his age. He died abruptly from a car accident when I was 13. 

We had just got out of school for the summer and I was filled with excitement. Joy even. I hadn’t seen him as often in the year prior to his death because we moved to Athens 1.5 hours away from him. I was looking forward to getting to hang out that summer. We had made plans to come do some fishing in Winder. 

The day it happened is burned into my memory. Mrs bedwetter, the bus driver, dropped me off and I came into the house to witness my mom crying. The driver’s name wasn’t really Mrs. Bedwetter; I gave her the name because she suspended me once that year for mooning the school bus. Funny memory. Now we all know where Fielder gets it. 

Mom delivered the news that Eric was in a car accident and was in the hospital. In my 13 year old mind, Eric had a broken leg or arm and some bruises. He was a beast in the weight room and a car accident wasn’t so bad. He held many lifting records uand had the weight room named after him posthumously. 

The first sign that it was worse than I imagined was dad came home from work early and we rushed to Kennestone hospital. Everyone was there. I mean the whole football team was there. Slightly larger in attendance was my family, extended family of blood relatives, and might-as-well-be-blood-relatives because we are so close. You know who you are. It takes a village and we need you now too even if you can’t be here. 

Then I heard that David and Frieda had not seen Eric. He was badly injured and I panicked. Left the hospital. I had a brief conversation with Shaun Slaton, the quarterback of my Milford football team, who had broken his arm and was in the ER. Football wasn’t my sport. I tried, but the last year I played I was on Milford’s 115lbs football team and I weighed 85lbs. Some kids had to strip down to their skivvies to make weight, I just suited up and made weight, pads and all. I probably could have carried the water cooler and still made weight.  

I made it to the parking deck before I was alone. I tried to figure out how to cope with all the emotions that I was feeling. I didn’t know what to do. So I just leaned over the edge of the parking deck and spit as many times as I could. Kids eh. I was trying to create a large puddle of spit 20 feet below me on the concrete next to the parking deck. It was a windy dark evening. I failed. 

Dad came out to console me. He put his arm around me and hugged me. Told me all the platitudes, but it helped. Yesterday he tried to put his arm around his 13 year old son again. We failed. I’m not 85lbs any more and I’m bigger than him now. I turned out much bigger than people expected at a whopping 5’9”. The hug was a kind of awkward who goes up who goes down side hug. You owe me a good one soon. But you did buy me Hooters so we’ll call it even. 

It’s been 23 years since Eric died and I still miss him. The swift Uturn of emotion from joy to pain the day he died stuck with me. I had never really had to face down a loss. I felt the same UTurn on Monday. The joy of childbirth followed by complications changed my emotional course for the week so quickly. Back and forth, back and forth. I felt like a flea on the back of a squirrel trying to cross the road. 

Again today I feel like a squirrel. Things keep changing so fast. A new complication. Seizures started around late today. Loss. They are administering Phenobarbital to control the seizures. Her brain is swelling again. Loss. This time in the prefrontal cortex which controls executive functioning, personality expression, decision making, moderating social behavior, and moderating certain aspects of speech and language. Loss. Too early to tell the extent of damage to any or all of these functions. I’m preparing for the worst, but nothing can prepare you for this. They tested for a neurological response and got both left and right side movement. Win. She’s maxed out on dopamine, epinephrine, and remains fully reliant on a ventilator. Loss. I suspect that she is maxed out on morphine too, but they just keep saying they are administering it for pain. If we back down any of these treatments the outcomes are not good. I’m afraid she is dying. I know she’s in pain. 

I’m a fixer. A do-er. But I have a helpless feeling. There’s nothing I can do for her. So I write. I sing. I answer the phone. 

I’m trying to embrace the moment. Lord knows it’s the only embrace I’ll get right now until Carly is discharged. We expect that her and Miller will be discharged today. Win. 

I’m trying to learn from this. I’ve always said life is about experiences and not money or possessions. This experience is not what I had in mind, but it’s an experience none the less. It’s a chance to relate to my friends, neighbors, and family in a whole new way. I love you guys, but I’d trade being able to relate and sympathize with you for a healthy baby Girl. No offense please. 

I’m tired and eating a popsicle. Trying to work up enough spit to make a puddle in the parking deck. But my tears keep dripping and making it look like an abstract Jackson pollack mermaid watercolor painting. I’ve had a green and red King of Pops popsicle so far. The first time I typed Pops it came out “Poos.” Boy that would have been funny to publish. I couldn’t deprive you of the joy of that juicy nugget. Pun intended. 

I might have a brown and blue one too. Wait. No brown one for obvious reasons. The blue will go nicely with the green and red in my Jackson pollack look a like. Did I Tell you I stress eat sweets?