The day my life changed was June 5th 2002....
I remember it like it was yesterday. My 5yr old son (at the time) had been in the hospital for 7 days with pneumonia and a collapsed lobe in his right lung. Imagine trying to keep an energetic and seemingly healthy 5 yr old boy still and confined in a hospital room for 7 days when the only outward appearence of sickness was the i.v. they had taped that was inserted in his tiny arm. Life prior to this day was normal, care free, and perfect. He was scheduled to have surgery on this date to have a procedure done to suction out the mucus plug in his lung because nothing else was working. I kissed my normal, healthy, able to walk talk and play son as they wheeled him away to what was supposed to be a simple surgery that shouldnt take longer than an hour.
Well as that hour passed, then another half an hour passed, my stomach began to turn and my thoughts began to race. Trying to calm down and tell myself that all was well, that attempt quickly failed as I saw the doctor come out to alert the family that there had been complications. As I tried to focus past the word "complications" and listen to what the man I had entrusted my most prized possesion to, my heart broke into a million pieces. During surgery he'd had some struggles but they were able to get him stable, and although he was on a ventalator for now as a precaution, he would be fine and have the vent removed later that day once he got settled in his room. It seemed like another 2hrs passed before I was able to see my little solider. As my family and I was brought up to his room to see him for the first time since the surgery, there were wispers coming from the nurses station and looks of sympathy as we all walked by, and I heard one of them say to the other "there goes the family"... as I rounded the corner to the icu room where he was being kept, I looked through the glass window of the room to see my precious angel hooked to machines and levitating off the bed as if he was possessed by some demon. My knees buckled, my heart sank, and I thought I would pass out as I gained the strength to yell out in pain "What the hell did ya'll do to my son!" He was covered in sweat, strapped to the bed to protect him from the grand mal seizures he was having back to back, and has tubes coming from his mouth. I handed those doctors my pride and joy and they returned him broken. June 5th 2002 was the day my life changed. The day my son lost his voice, his way of life, his ability to move, and do anything for himself anymore. A light inside of me went dim forever, because looking at him laying in that bed and realizing the severity of the situation, I knew life would never be the same.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
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