Chapter 5 (Part 2): A Son Of Thunder Recounts The Battle

Oct 21, 2009 by winjaw

Continuing on with our recounting – and payback – of our middle Son of Thunder’s battle against the deadly bug.

As I’ve mentioned, you learn things – about yourself, about others – during times of crisis. Some things you want to forget, other things you don’t ever want to forget. There are highlights and there are low points. Lots of points.

I do know this. I don’t want to be there again. As a father, it’s your job to teach; to guard; to protect. And when something is completely out of your control, when you can’t do anything,  it’s an ugly feeling of helplessness.

Been there. Done that. No thanks.

But let’s go back to those things we don’t want to forget: things like the proper clothing attire and bribes.

Bribes:

Yes, shame on me. And we – the Little Black Dress is a guilty party in this because I’m not going to take all the blame – bribed like no tomorrow.  Do you have any idea how many Bionicles there are out there? Rest assured. We have them. Every single one.

And we (the middle Son) favor the Glatorian Legends. That would include Stronius, Ackar, Vastus, Kiina, Gelu and Mata Nui. I can’t spell any of those. But the middle Son can not only spell them, but describe them in great detail – all this while he’s completely doped up on every kind of medication there is.

How can he spell these yet have trouble with his spelling words at school?

I think it’s a question of priorities. We learn what we want to learn. And kids remember promises (read bribes). Because as soon as he woke up from surgery, the very first question he asked was “did you get Vastus?” Very. First. Words.

Attire

The middle Son did not favor the swank designer hospital gown. Not at all. In fact he let everyone know, from the doctors to the nurses to the interns to the janitor, that the gown was unacceptable.  My middle Son has a stubborn streak. A very ugly stubborn streak. And it got to the point where we basically told the doctor either the gown goes, or he (the doctor) can deal with the Son on that subject. That changed the landscape quickly.

The gown went and the proper pajamas were donned.

Personally, I can handle a few days in a hospital with a couple of changes of underwear, maybe some new socks and a shirt every now and then. It’s like camping.

The LBD likes to camp too.  All she needs is a portable generator to plug in the hair dryer, rollers, heating blanket, etc. and she’s good to go. Okay, maybe two generators.

I didn’t shave for five days. The LBD put on lipstick and makeup prior to taking the middle Son down for surgery. With a scarf wrapped jauntily around her neck.

At one point I went back up to our main camp to check on the other two Sons of Thunder and to replenish supplies. I was given a list, quite extensive mind you, that included: black sweater, jean jacket, black strap shoes with high heels. High heels?  Whatever.

I walk into the closet. I am completely lost. I hit speed dial.
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“Um, which sweater?”

“The black one.”

“Um, there are 30.”

“If you stand two feet from the north wall and look directly at the second row count down six hangers from the red robe. That one.”

Yeah, okay.

“Um, which jean jacket?  I see six.”

“The one with the tiny black pen mark YOUR precious youngest son put on the sleeve about five inches from the bottom of the left sleeve.”

Yeah, okay.

“Um, which pair of black shoes?”

“The ones with the black strap across the toe and they tie around the ankle. They have a three-inch heel.”

That helps, we’ve narrowed it down to 63 pairs.

In Closing:

We again want to thank everyone for their prayers and support.

We were fortunate in that the middle Son was unable to reach a phone and call 911 to “have the police come and save me” as he put it – several times.

He continues to mend. We are actually getting some sleep.

And life goes on.

Thanks.