Posts tagged ‘Children’

My son is nine.  About a week ago, he discovered reading.  Not that he didn’t know HOW to read, just that he would not choose to spend his time reading for pleasure.  There was always something more important, more entertaining, more exciting to do than read.  And then, he found The Book.  We all have one.  That one Book that made us stop, pause where we were, what we were doing, and sit down to read.  The Book that took us to another land or another world.  The Book that taught us how to let our imaginations roam free in a world described on paper but created in our own minds.  The Book that will ALWAYS be better than the movie.  The Book that we may return to time and again, not because we have forgotten what happens within the pages, but because we remember the sheer joy we felt the first time we entered that realm.  The Book is different for each of us, but the results are the same.  It is that one Book that turns us into Readers.

For my son, it is a book that takes place within the Minecraft realm.  The characters are all taken from the game, but the adventure they go on is an original story created by the author.  He took a couple of days to read the first one in the series, and then blew through the next two in a day each.  And he shows no signs of slowing down.  Luckily for both of us, there are several more books in this series, and a couple of other series by the same author.  He will not run out of things to read.  But watching him become absorbed into the world of his imagination began to stir some nostalgic feelings in me.  I remembered those days of bumping into things and people in my own house because I would be trying to walk and read at the same time.  Nights spent under the covers with a flashlight, WAY past bedtime, because I just wanted to read “one more chapter“.

One wall of our living room is lined with bookshelves, our own little home Library.  It is about 15 feet long, 8 feet high, and packed with books.  Some are kids books, no more than 32 pages, where every character seems to be a talking animal that figures out a way to solve the problem they are confronted with, usually with the help of their friends or a kind adult or parent.  Others are textbooks from my and my husband’s college years.  Most are novels, biographies, and other “adult” books that we have picked up over the years, read maybe once or twice, and then they have found a permanent home on the shelf.  But one end of the shelf is devoted solely to my Book Collection.  Books that have been handed down or given to me by parents, grandparents, or other relatives.  These are books that have been part of the fabric of my life for as long as I can remember.  The Nancy Drew books I was given as a child when my mother signed me up for a “Book of the Month” club.  The Cherry Ames books that were my mother’s (along with the other, missing volumes I have acquired thanks to ebay).  The small, slim, red volumes of Shakespeare’s love plays – “Romeo & Juliet” and “Antony & Cleopatra” – that my great-grandparents (teachers, both) gave to one another as tokens of their affection.  Books that were published long before I, my mother, or (in some cases) even my grandmother were born.  Some of these books I have read over and over again.  Some I have never opened, and never will, but can’t seem to part with.  Some are in such fragile, delicate condition, that I keep the book, but if I want to read it I find an electronic version I can download to a tablet.  But, in all of them, I have found friendship, solace, comfort, adventure, wisdom, joy, fear, longing, and happiness.

I stood in front of this shelf today, just perusing the titles.  Seeing books I hadn’t thought about in a while brought a smile to my face.  Each title evoked images in my mind of setting, characters, or action.  Nancy trapped in the back of the moving van.  Plato, standing in his robes between marble columns, dispensing wisdom for the ages.  Sherlock working out the intricacies of a mystery while playing the violin.  Jo corralling a herd of boys, trying to instill in them the lessons and values that will make them Little Men.  Lincoln, in a distinctively un-presidential tent, within earshot of the battlefield, struggling over whether the choices he is making are the right ones.  Wynken, Blynken, and Nod sailing in their wooden shoe.  And Dorian, standing tall, looking as young and handsome as ever, while the portrait in the attic evolves into a contorted, grotesque version of its former image.

All of these books have helped to fashion who I am today, and I am grateful for them.  I could spend hours talking about books, but right now, I have to go – Cherry is about to board the train for nursing school.

When you are a parent of a child with severe food allergies, you constantly walk along a cliff, looking down, watching every step, trying to make sure you don’t plunge off the edge.  Most of the time, through diligence, patience, and a lot of home cooking, you can stroll along with a wide comfort zone between you and the abyss.  Sometimes, though, circumstances push you closer and closer to the edge, to the point that, with every step, gravel and small rocks slip from beneath your feet and tumble down while you flail desperately to keep from following.  You know that if you do fall, there is a pretty good chance that you will be able to grab that rope called “Epinephrine Auto-Injector”, and it will help prevent certain doom, but it is always a last resort.

For the most part, we have done OK, but this morning we were reminded of just how precarious our journey is.  When my son woke up, he had the tell-tale polka-dot rash spreading out from his neck and down across his torso, front and back.  Thank you, cross-contamination.  We got take-away for dinner last night from a trusted location (one that we have researched and know the menu and ingredients and what is safe and what is not).  My son enjoyed his meal, but had an uncomfortable overnight, and woke this morning with the rash.  Our best guess is that someone had cheese on their gloves when they grabbed his chicken, or somehow a drop of ice cream somehow got onto his food.  No matter, it happened, and there was nothing we could do about it.  Allergy-inducing proteins are invisible.  They don’t come in bright colors or carry signs to alert you of their presence.  They just lurk in the shadows, waiting to pounce, given the opportunity.

I didn’t choose this journey, but it is mine, along with my husband and my child.  We look to each other on a daily basis to check our footing, and reach out to catch each other when one of us starts to slip.  It is never pleasant, never easy, and never-ending.  Thankfully, it has been a while since we have had to use our auto-injector, but I have to erase my mental chalkboard of “Days Without an Allergic Reaction” and reset it to 0.    While our trek continues, just once, I would like to be able to stop and enjoy the view from Life on the Edge.

Friends, all is right with the world . . . just finished opening Christmas presents with Brandon. He is home and working on readjusting to life outside the hospital. He is very weak and still tires very easily, but HE IS HOME! It might sound a little crazy, but after the roller coaster of the past two weeks, it is so comforting to be just sitting and being peaceful and chatting and laughing with Brandon. Just letting the calm wash over me . . . Thank you so much for all your love, prayers, and support over the past two weeks. I don’t know that we could have done it without you! Thank You!!!

Just got home from the hospital and visiting Brandon. He is doing OK, but he will not be able to come home in time for Christmas. I had a conversation tonight with Brandon’s nurse, and the chief problem right now is Brandon’s oxygen levels. Normally, O2 levels are around 98 – 100. Brandon is nowhere near that currently. He is maintaining an O2 in the mid 90’s, but needs supplemental oxygen to keep it there. When he is up and active, his levels drop even further, down below 90, even with the oxygen. Until he is at a place where he is at 95 or better, without needing any oxygen, he will not be able to come home. He has some breathing exercises he is doing to help strengthen his lungs and help them expand and take in more air, and he is getting breathing treatments several times a day, but, big picture, without enough oxygen in the bloodstream, there are a lot bigger problems that could occur systemically. So, until he no longer needs the oxygen, he will have to stay in the hospital.

On a separate note, I think he is just now beginning to wrap his head around what has happened in the past two weeks, and what the long-term effects of this ordeal might be. The idea of being physically challenged by a body that could betray him at any time is a little daunting, and he is having a little difficulty picturing where he is going from here. He wants more than anything to be out of the hospital, but feels a bit lost as to how his life is going to change when that happens. Just like coming off life support, it is going to be a matter of baby steps . . . .

Until he is able to come home, cards, phone calls, & visits are welcome. E-cards can be sent using the link below. Address them to C. Brandon Forbis, room 5120. The phone number for his room is 655-4588 or you can call his cell phone. Visiting hours are from 11 – 8 daily, but until he gets a little stronger, we would ask that visitors limit their visits to 30 minutes. Thank you again for all your prayers! They are working! Keep them coming!

http://www.osfsaintfrancis.org/ecards/

Well, we’re moving on up . . . to the 5th floor! Just got a call from the hospital and Brandon is being transferred out of ICU up to the 5th floor. It is sort of a step-down unit – he will still be remotely monitored at the nurse’s station for heart and oxygen, etc., but with a little less one-on-one attention. His new room number is 5120 and it is still in the same building, just one floor up. From the sound of it, he may be sharing a room, so we are going to have to keep the partying to a minimum. He is still getting very tired very easily, so I told him to take a nap as soon as he got settled in his new digs. Hopefully, we are still on target to come home on Saturday . . .