Update 9 - The Call

I left the hospital this morning at 9:45. Miller had her first appointment with the pediatrician at 12:30 and I rushed to Athens to be there for her and Carly. I felt like a travel baseball parent bussing each kid to their games indifferent counties. I’m frazzled, but resolved to give each child the attention they deserve. I’m afraid I’m failing. I wonder if i'm doing enough to make sure they all feel special. They all have such different needs. 

A few weeks ago, Fielder and I went to a travel baseball game. I love baseball enough to go watch 9 year olds play. It was great. We ordered a shaved ice. He wanted bubble gum flavor. Who is this child! I blame Carly. I secretly changed the flavor to strawberry. They were both pink. I hoped he wouldn’t realize. He did, but we ate it together anyway. 

While we were at the park I started to imagine travel ball for three kids. As Brad rushed out of the park, I thought, “this must be tough.” I snatched a small sense of hope when I remembered the twins would be on the same teams. I never would have imagined I would be splitting my time between the two girls this soon. It’s brutal. 

I was fatigued this morning, despite 7 hours of sleep. A weight was lifted off me once I completed the morning update. I left the hospital with energy. Exuberance. I wanted to stay, but I left with the energy of a Friday at 4:30 when you sneak out of the office a little early. I was excited to see the rest of the family.

In front of the Medical Center Marta Station I almost rear ended a Mini Cooper. There is a lot of construction in this area and the driver felt the need to slam on their brakes at every metal trench cover. My blood boiled. My positive energy was derailed. Road rage. I almost hit her one more time before I realized she was lost. The signage with all the construction is sparse. This area really is changing. 

The route I take to Scotish Rite is down Lake Hern drive. I was born across the street from here at Northside hospital, but I first familiarized myself with this area in 2002. I was a Freshman at Georgia Tech. It’s in downtown Atlanta about 10 miles from here.

My cousin Kit lived what I later found out was 1.5 miles from the Medical Center Marta Station. I used to crash at his place in college. We had some good times there. He has taught me a lot. Some of you may know I play the drums, or used too. Kit taught me most of my percussion skills in Athens when he was in college. Good times. I still can’t believe my mom and dad let a 15 year old go hang out with college students in Athens. I learned to play the drumset for M-Fuge in the basement of that house near the Marta Station. Then I ended up playing at the BCM at Georgia Tech after M-fuge. Thanks for graduating Winston. I’m not sure I would have graduated if my drums were not at Georgia Tech. I wish I still had my drum Kit. It’s good therapy. Kit is a phenomenal musician, and a clown. He does make me laugh, but seriously he plays the drums for Cirque du Soleil. You should check him out. He is all over the internet. Kit Chatham. Challenge accepted.

I also parked my car Freshman year at that house. It wasn’t terribly convenient to tech, but close enough that he could come pick me up at the Marta Station and I could get out of town quickly. I regret not embracing city life at Tech. I missed out on so much. 

One Friday Kit was gone and I needed to get out of town. I convinced Whitney Dunlop to ride Marta with me and walk to pickup my truck. We were Chemistry partners, but in reality she did all the work and I just asked a bunch of dumb questions until she let me copy her answers. She is a sweet friend. I was failing every test, but trying. I had never failed at anything before. It was so hard. My dad paid a tutor for Chemistry, but I quit going and used the money for food. I figured I could fail on my own and hot wings are good. 

That Friday we had a chemistry test, but I wanted to split right after it was over. I was probably trying to win over a girl. I think I was going to see Jessie in Elberton. I hatched the plan to not walk alone, but Whitney wanted to study. I can be manipulative, and she is a sweet friend. Despite her reservation, she acquiesced. 

The train ride was easy. We studied for the test just like I explained we would when I manipulated her to tag along. Well ….Whitney studied. I just stared at the text. 

The walk was hell. It never seemed like far when Kit drove. But as I said. It was a mile and a half. We did it with backpacks full of books. Dumb idea. Dumb plan. To this day I’m not sure Whitney has forgiven me. I remember thinking during the walk that it was so hard, but the air conditioning in the Ranger would be cold and provide relief. Keep trudging. I remember feeling so guilty for what I had got us into. I didn’t want Whitney to miss our test. I was going to fail it anyway. We didn’t miss our test. I failed. She set the Curve. Maybe, I don’t remember, but she is really smart. I also got a ticket for parking in a spot without a permit. 

Despite all the negativity, and a dumb terrible plan, the guilt was gone. Almost 18 years later I can remember a hard time and laugh. I find comfort in this story. I keep driving my route and remembering everything worked out. It didn’t feel like it was going to, but it did. I even passed chemistry. Barely. D is for Done. Maybe Dumb. I eventually graduated from Tech. I failed a lot before I did, but I made it out. It was the hardest thing I had ever done to that point. 

If moments were bombs, the walk down lake hern was a pipe bomb. Hastily constructed, but inflicted some pain. Georgia Tech was Dresden. The firebombs were constant. This moment is Hiroshima. Nuclear. We will be picking the pieces up for a long time.

I have been preparing my whole life for this moment. I’ve had success and failure, but I’m still dusting myself off and trying again. We will get through this. I can’t wait to feel some relief. Can someone crank the car and turn on the AC and let it cool down before I get there?

Miller had a great checkup. She is doing so great. She is our refuge. Her weight has increased since being discharged and the doctor said she is ahead of the curve. She is 18.5” long. Bit she keeps her knees tucked up under her like a frog all the time. My dad used to call one of my sisters forgive, but I think it was because of warts. Miller doesn’t have warts. She is precious. 

The doctor came in after all the measuring and gave Miller a thorough check up. She said, “her color is so much better since seeing you at the hospital.” Then she asked about River. We shared our pain, but were masked and not fully able to see each other’s expression. I felt her sharing our pain. She is a great doctor. Get on their list if you need a pediatrician. Dr. Holly Aldridge in Athens. Side note: One good thing about wearing a face mask and six feet of separation: I have not smelled anyone’s bad breath but my own. Little victories.

Then the appointment took a turn for the worst. Dr. Reisner, The head of neurosurgery, called and asked when we would be back. He wanted to talk in person, but intuition told me it wasn’t good. I urged him to go ahead and deliver the news. I couldn’t wait until Carly and I were back with River tomorrow. I braced for impact. Carly perceived the moment and started to cry without even hearing the news. He made it very clear our treatment isn’t working. The brain is too badly injured. He was sincere and kind. I wish I could have bowed to him again, but I just bumbled through trying to thank him for his candor. We are no longer waiting for an MRI. Loss. Her seizures continue. Loss. She isn’t in pain. Win. She is stable. Win. She is being kept alive by machines. Win? She could possibly stay like this for years, a Decade maybe. Win?

I’m thankful for all the care River has been given. People and science have given us so much to consider and be thankful for. I tell them as much as I can that I’m thankful they choose their line of work and to subject themselves to this kind of pain. We have been in the counsel of some very wise people over the last few days. Scotish Rite is full of amazing nurses, doctors, social workers, and chaplains. We are surrounded by amazing friends and family. Every phone call, conversation, consult, and text have been an important part of our journey. Thank you. We have lost hope in men and their abilities and comprehension, but we still believe in miracles. Despite my unbelief. 

And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose. And when he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” ~Mark 9:23-29. 

Keep praying. 

I had Waffle House for Dinner. All star special baby. It was a special date with my wife. I married a good one. 

Tomorrow I’m going fishing. It’s therapy. Fielder needs some time with me. He is expressing sadness. Our house is blanketed by a cloud of sadness. He is still his happy energetic and spastic self, but not immune or oblivious to what is happening. He know River is very sick. He has seen Carly’s scar. He is a very intuitive little guy and wants to be around to help. I’m thankful he is so kind and caring. He needs me. I hope we catch a lot of lunkers and Saddaddies.