Friday, August 8, 2008

Mr. Mint...Nope, Not That One...

Scrabble? Check. Uno? Check. Monopoly? Definite Double Check. I rarely get my ass kicked on these...

(yes, I'm gonna continue to cuss the rest of the week, regardless of the type of post. If you don't like it, move along...I'm sick of censoring myself and rather than take a week off from
blogging I'll take a week off from giving a ripped shit. You can expect Treasure Never Buried to return to some form of order on Monday, August 11th. You can skip reading until then if you like...Oh, and this is the last post I'll point it out as well)

Last night, I lost 2 out of 3 games in CandyLand. On a side note, I wish we didn't own this game. Reason being, my son was given the game yesterday at the doctor's office for being such a "Big Boy", or as we call it, a "Ninja Kid", after having some blood drawn for tests that the doctors want to run.

Roughly one month ago, there was a boil water alert for our area. For anyone unfamiliar with this term, it's when the local water supply is found to contain contaminants or potential viruses. The Health Department steps in and you can only use water if is from another supply or if it has been boiled and stored to certain specifications.

Not long after the alert was lifted, my son became sick. I've never seen a kid with a worser case of the shits. He literally had to "go potty" so many times that he was raw from wiping. I know that's gross but there's no other way to put it.

At first we decided that he must have picked up a bug from the water. We did everything that we knew to do at home and after a few days decided that he should see a doctor.

Doctor seen? Check. Shit in a cup for a few days for tests? Check. Negative Test Results? THANK GOD, CHECK! He went on antibiotics for a few days. After the 10 day period...he wasn't better. Appointment with a Specialist? Check....

Yesterday, we went to said specialist. Gelled fingers in my son's ass? God, please never again, Check. I never want to see the look on my child's face from this again.

Brief Pause. I'm not sure how I'm coming across with this post. I'm not attempting to be funny or sarcastic or play off the situation. I'm, seriously, very scared about what's going to come from all of this and, honestly, I don't know how to think or how to say it if I did. I'm struggling here....

I stand there in the doctor's office, holding my son, and thinking about all of the posts I've given you here about our relationship. It's only a brief glimpse into the "friendship" that my son and I have. There's so much more to us than I have to room to write in this genre.

I think about all of the plans I have for my son, all of the things I want to see him accomplish, and how hard it's going to be watch him go one day. I'm thinking of these things while the doctor rattles through possible diseases that I can't spell or pronounce. My knees felt weak and I almost couldn't stand up.

Many times, my son has cried and told me that he doesn't want to grow up because then, "your little boy will be gone forever." I kick myself for saying whatever it was that I said that made him think that way. I cry with him and tell him that the only way I can be a "papaw" one day is if he grows up and has his own babies. He smiles with me through his tears but he still understands that a day will come that I can't pick him up anymore. A day will come when he has to move away. 4 year olds shouldn't have to think about those things and I shouldn't have ever made him realize it. I feel like a great father for feeling that way but a failure for letting him know it.

We go the lab and he sits in my lap with his small dinosaur. The nurse gives him a Speed Racer car. He lights up immediately and then frowns. "Where's the Speed Racer guy? This is just the car..." he says.

We tie his arm off and work on getting the vein into a supple position. I tell him it's going to hurt but just a little. I try to be as honest as I possibly can be with my kid about everything. He says he'll be a strong Ninja Kid, and I know he'll try, but I also know that he won't make it the whole way through. That's why I'm holding him.

The catheter is inserted and he jumps in my lap a little. His eyes well up but he doesn't cry. Lori starts telling him that she'll soon be doing the same thing...another post coming very soon...and I start to think about all of the "practicing" we did in training for Afghanistan.

The first vial is full and a second vial is attached. Now he has tears coming down but he's still trying to be strong. The second vial is full and he loses his composure.

"Take it out, it hurts, it hurts!" he cries. I tell him over and over that he's a Ninja Kid and he can do it. "Just be strong, it's almost over" I say to which he replies, "No, I'm not a Ninja Kid, Ninja Kids don't cry."

Finally, finally, finally the deed is done and the Spider Man band-aid is put in place. He wipes his tears and his focus goes back to the car. The outstandingly great nurse says that she has something else for him. She returns with a "factory sealed" CandyLand game (I had to use a hobby term at least once in this non-baseball post...)

The rest of the afternoon plays out like most. We go eat some pizza, go do some shopping at Wal-mart, and then head to Blockbuster to find some obscure older movie that he has yet to see. Our shitty little local video store didn't have Gremlins so we went home empty handed.

Closer to bedtime, I say, "I sure would love to play CandyLand. I just wish I knew who would play it with me."

"I WILL!! I WILL!! he screams, running and jumping into the kitchen.

He takes Lori and I, 2 games out of 3, and we don't "cheat" in his favor. I watch him throughout the games and think to myself of all the bad things that could come from whatever sickness he has come down with. I fight back the tears and consider the worst. Pessimists do that even though they try not to. I am a self proclaimed pessimist.

I realize that life is precious, better said time is precious, and that there are no guarantees. That children are as susceptible to mortality as we. This could be a really bad bug that goes away over time. It could be an easily manageable "disease" with little to no symptoms, side effects, or limits. Or, God forbid, it could be something far worse.

Regardless of what it is, I've realized a few things about myself and my priorities lately. I plan to post as much, if not more, than I have in the past, but maybe not as much readers would like.

I promise this blog isn't going anywhere, anytime soon but you may see less of me from time to time. If I disappear for a few days, I assure you that I'm not gone and that I'll be back, just be patient.

I'm probably just busy playing CandyLand...

7 comments:

fielderschoice said...

Good luck! I am hoping that whatever is wrong with Connor is nothing to worry about. There are things far more important than blogging about baseball cards, so don't feel bad at all if you can't post much.

thefead said...

As a fellow pessimist, collector, and (more importantly) the father of a four year old boy, I nearly broke down reading your post. I wish you and yours well, and though, not an overly religious man, I will say a prayer for you, Connor and your family. My heart goes out to you in this time of worry.

jv said...

Thanks dave and thefead. I really appreciate your comments. I wasn't looking for support, heck I wasn't really looking to post any of that. I just sat down to type and it kinda came out.

Thanks guys for the comments and for your thoughtfulness. I know that everything will be ok and I appreciated ya'll reiterating that sentiment. It means alot to me...

geomon said...

Wow what a brilliant and emotional read. I know I've said you're a good writer before but...damn. You almost brought me to tears and I don't even have a son but I know that if I ever do I would want to be the kind of father you are.

I'm sure your boy will be fine. Intestinal parasites can be a real bitch to diagnose and even worse to get rid of but very few are lethal. I had my own bout with one last year that kept my ass on a toilet for 10 days and on a rigorous diet of crackers and gatorade for a week after.

As long as you replace the fluids he's losing he should be fine. The body will do the rest.

desert plume said...

There's nothing more haunting and worrisome than when something is wrong with your kid. Nothing, period. Curse away.

If there is no change in the next couple of days, I'll email you about one possibility to test for, because this sounds similar to what happened with a good friend's son (he's fine now by the way).

jv said...

I will DP and thank you for the comment. I never understood when my father would tell me, "I wish I were sick instead of you" when I was a kid.

Now I realize there is nothing I wouldn't take so that my son wouldn't have to...

I'm very curious about the situation you described with your friend's son. Email me anytime...

papajvscards@gmail.com

ed said...

I have four kids so I really know what this is like. Don't worry about him, kids are a lot tougher than you think, just enjoy being with him. I've had to hold mine while they got stitches on their head being wide awake and screaming at that same age of 4. They get back to running around like "ninja kids" all over.