Sunday was an especially difficult day for our son. He woke up with a sore ear, and by noon was crying his eyes out because he was dizzy, his ears were popping and aching and he felt like he couldn’t walk. I called our doctor and he told me to bring him to the ER, that he wanted to see him right away.
On the 15 minutes drive, he sat in the backseat with his head back, tears streaming down his face. I kept saying “I’m so sorry you’re sick.” And he’d say “That’s ok,” and wipe away his tears to make room for more. He never complained.
At the hospital, the nurse told him she needed to take some blood. The tears streamed at a faster rate, but he just turned his head and stretched out his arm. The nurse apologized for hurting him. He said, “That’s ok.”
Our doctor checked him over and read through a 6 inch-deep chart, trying again to find clues as to why our brave little boy is still so sick. In less than a month, he’s been in the hospital for three days and has been seen in the clinic/ER 3 more times. He’s had three rounds of antibiotics, and yet still gets sicker. This time his ears are filled with fluid and infection and his nasty sinus infection won’t go away.
“I’m so sorry, pal. I’m trying to figure out how to help you,” our doctor said, rubbing our son’s back.
“That’s ok,” he said with his head buried in his hands, trying to hide the tears and act brave.
You know what? It’s not ok. I’m tired of my son being sick. I want to take all of the pain and hurt out of his body and put it in my own – or in someone who is a really bad person and doesn’t have the ability to love. My son loves everyone. He loves our doctor for taking care of him. He even loves the nurses who hurt him with needles and wants to send them thank you cards for taking care of him when he’s sick. He lays his head on my lap and asks how I’m feeling. He tells me he’s sorry that we have to stay home from work to take care of him. He asks who is taking care of his sister while he’s in the hospital and wants to make sure she’s safe.
We have such an amazing little boy. He has such a grasp on life that most 5 year olds can’t even imagine. He realizes his limitations and his abilities. He may never outgrow this disorder that makes him sick so much. His immune system may never function properly. To me, that’s not ok. But to him, it’s just his life. He figures he might as well love life as it is – because at least he has it.
Every day, I remember this little boy lying in an incubator after his birth, struggling to breathe and I think about how lucky I am to have him. He might not be able to run races or play football. But he can love everyone, color amazing pictures, read books, fight with his sister, kick his dad’s butt on Xbox, and be the bravest little person I know – and all of that is more than ok.
It’s a miracle.
On the 15 minutes drive, he sat in the backseat with his head back, tears streaming down his face. I kept saying “I’m so sorry you’re sick.” And he’d say “That’s ok,” and wipe away his tears to make room for more. He never complained.
At the hospital, the nurse told him she needed to take some blood. The tears streamed at a faster rate, but he just turned his head and stretched out his arm. The nurse apologized for hurting him. He said, “That’s ok.”
Our doctor checked him over and read through a 6 inch-deep chart, trying again to find clues as to why our brave little boy is still so sick. In less than a month, he’s been in the hospital for three days and has been seen in the clinic/ER 3 more times. He’s had three rounds of antibiotics, and yet still gets sicker. This time his ears are filled with fluid and infection and his nasty sinus infection won’t go away.
“I’m so sorry, pal. I’m trying to figure out how to help you,” our doctor said, rubbing our son’s back.
“That’s ok,” he said with his head buried in his hands, trying to hide the tears and act brave.
You know what? It’s not ok. I’m tired of my son being sick. I want to take all of the pain and hurt out of his body and put it in my own – or in someone who is a really bad person and doesn’t have the ability to love. My son loves everyone. He loves our doctor for taking care of him. He even loves the nurses who hurt him with needles and wants to send them thank you cards for taking care of him when he’s sick. He lays his head on my lap and asks how I’m feeling. He tells me he’s sorry that we have to stay home from work to take care of him. He asks who is taking care of his sister while he’s in the hospital and wants to make sure she’s safe.
We have such an amazing little boy. He has such a grasp on life that most 5 year olds can’t even imagine. He realizes his limitations and his abilities. He may never outgrow this disorder that makes him sick so much. His immune system may never function properly. To me, that’s not ok. But to him, it’s just his life. He figures he might as well love life as it is – because at least he has it.
Every day, I remember this little boy lying in an incubator after his birth, struggling to breathe and I think about how lucky I am to have him. He might not be able to run races or play football. But he can love everyone, color amazing pictures, read books, fight with his sister, kick his dad’s butt on Xbox, and be the bravest little person I know – and all of that is more than ok.
It’s a miracle.
1 comment:
My "Little Guy" has more love in his little heart than any 5 year old I know. I love you "Little Guy" (grandma). mom
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