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littlebitofearthMy Independence Day was not spent barbecuing and playing outside with sparklers. Instead, yesterday, I stood beside my son, Will, in the ivy-walled prayer garden of our local hospital watching him try his hardest to keep his shit together as his best friend lolled in a wheelchair, face drooping, the left half of his 18-year-old body paralyzed by a stroke so unexpected his mother asked him if he was drunk when she found him collapsed on his bedroom floor earlier this week.
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“Caleb had a stroke.”
I was at work on Monday when the text came through.
My son was spending a few days at a cabin with some of his friends and for a moment I was confused. Was Caleb with them in the woods? Did I need to call 911? No, wait. He wasn’t on this trip. Was Will just screwing around?
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
I didn’t want to believe my kid would be that insensitive but what he was saying was inconceivable. Surely it’s unthinkable that a perfectly healthy boy has suffered a life-altering medical emergency while the rest of us just carried on with our mundane lives.
“No mom! He just texted me! He said he had a stroke and he’s at the hospital and now he can’t feel the left side of his body.”
“Do you think he’s screwing around?
It would have been a dick move, but teens can be dumb. Maybe Caleb was mad because he wasn’t on the cabin trip and was looking for attention.
“I don’t think so. You know he’s not like that. His texts were full of typos - he said he’s really scared.”
He’s right. Caleb isn’t the type of kid to lie about something so dire.
“Do they know what caused it?”
“They just got to the hospital and they are doing a bunch of tests.”
“Are YOU ok?”
“Not really…”
“Ok, I know this is scary, but the good news is, I know OLD people who had strokes and fully recover - like first they can’t talk or walk but with work, they are completely fine again! Caleb’s young and healthy! It may take some time but I bet he will really be ok.”
“Really?”
“Yes, for sure!”
I’m not sure. You can never be sure. But what else can I say? My son loves this boy like a brother. Both musicians, they pushed each other to finish high school, to apply to good colleges and audition for music scholarships. They composed together, writing music for my son’s short film last year. They’ve performed together, their vocal quartet placing in a regional competition. They’ve even raised money at community events together, Caleb on guitar and Will on his sax.
But now, mouthy Caleb, talented Caleb, brilliant Caleb, broken Caleb, sits before us in the hospital garden, sweating in the Georgia heat in his yellow hospital gown. Pushed outside for a bit of sun on the Fourth of July by a kindly nurse, I watch grimly as mosquitos cluster around his exposed calves and ankles. He has so little feeling in his paralyzed limbs he doesn’t even notice as they land and bite him. Will tries to avert his eyes and keep smiling.
I am an adult and I have seen some shit, but when we got to the hospital for the first time and Caleb’s mother broke down sobbing in my arms, when I saw Caleb lying slumped in the hospital bed, left eye drooping and speech slurred, it was all I could do to keep my composure, put on a sunny face for all of them as my heart broke. Sure y’all, look at us all joking around about the gross hospital food and the toilet on wheels! If we keep pretending this isn’t so bad maybe Caleb won’t notice either! (It was bad, it was so very bad.)
And yet, here is my son, all smiles, just 17 years old, cutting up with his best friend as boys do, teasing Caleb to laughter about his crap taste in music, giving him hell and urging him to shoot him a bird if he doesn’t like it, just try and use his dead left hand to do it. The hand Caleb writes with. The hand he uses most to play his guitar.
We stayed for two hours, through Caleb’s dinner as his mom wiped pudding off his face like a toddler. When it was time to leave, Will hugged the boy in the bed and said, a little shakily, “You’re gonna be ok. You know? You win these!” Caleb’s good right eye searched Will’s face desperately wanting to believe what he said was true. “I’ll be back to see you soon, bro.”
Will barely made it to the hallway before tears were streaming down his cheeks. I held his arm tight as we hurried to the elevator - I’m here for you, I’m here for you, I’m here for you - and we rushed to the parking lot. No boy wants to break down in public.
As soon as we closed my car door, his head was in his hands. “I didn’t know,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know he would be like that. When I walked in the room and his speech was slurred I thought ‘Please, please just let him be drugged.’ And then I saw his face and his eye, mom, and his mouth, they were all droopy! I just didn’t know. When he ate, he didn’t even realize there was food on his face. Every time I think of it my throat aches.”
I rubbed his back as he cried, and I cried with him. A life in tatters. A broken boy. Innocence lost. Isn’t one of the joys of youth the mirage of being bulletproof? It tore Will’s heart to shreds seeing his best friend laid so low. And just as awful, the knowledge that, guess what, you aren’t immortal, kid. You can be 18 and six weeks out from your high school graduation and an unexplainable stroke hits you on a lazy Monday morning and all your plans, your dreams of going to college and playing guitar and singing on a big stage in a big city…all of that can disappear in one moment with a senseless explosion in your brain. The universe can be a real fucker. All cried out, we went home and I counted my blessings a little more reverently than usual.
It’s amazing the strides Caleb has been making already- figuratively and literally. Today he texted Will and told him that, in physical therapy, he was able to move his left fingers a little more than yesterday and he even tried walking with the help of a doctor. The smile on Will’s face when he told me was beatific. Sometimes hope is all we have. I have to believe, for all of us, that Caleb comes out of this stronger than ever before and with one hell of a story to tell when he’s famous.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Caleb had a stroke.”
I was at work on Monday when the text came through.
My son was spending a few days at a cabin with some of his friends and for a moment I was confused. Was Caleb with them in the woods? Did I need to call 911? No, wait. He wasn’t on this trip. Was Will just screwing around?
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
I didn’t want to believe my kid would be that insensitive but what he was saying was inconceivable. Surely it’s unthinkable that a perfectly healthy boy has suffered a life-altering medical emergency while the rest of us just carried on with our mundane lives.
“No mom! He just texted me! He said he had a stroke and he’s at the hospital and now he can’t feel the left side of his body.”
“Do you think he’s screwing around?
It would have been a dick move, but teens can be dumb. Maybe Caleb was mad because he wasn’t on the cabin trip and was looking for attention.
“I don’t think so. You know he’s not like that. His texts were full of typos - he said he’s really scared.”
He’s right. Caleb isn’t the type of kid to lie about something so dire.
“Do they know what caused it?”
“They just got to the hospital and they are doing a bunch of tests.”
“Are YOU ok?”
“Not really…”
“Ok, I know this is scary, but the good news is, I know OLD people who had strokes and fully recover - like first they can’t talk or walk but with work, they are completely fine again! Caleb’s young and healthy! It may take some time but I bet he will really be ok.”
“Really?”
“Yes, for sure!”
I’m not sure. You can never be sure. But what else can I say? My son loves this boy like a brother. Both musicians, they pushed each other to finish high school, to apply to good colleges and audition for music scholarships. They composed together, writing music for my son’s short film last year. They’ve performed together, their vocal quartet placing in a regional competition. They’ve even raised money at community events together, Caleb on guitar and Will on his sax.
But now, mouthy Caleb, talented Caleb, brilliant Caleb, broken Caleb, sits before us in the hospital garden, sweating in the Georgia heat in his yellow hospital gown. Pushed outside for a bit of sun on the Fourth of July by a kindly nurse, I watch grimly as mosquitos cluster around his exposed calves and ankles. He has so little feeling in his paralyzed limbs he doesn’t even notice as they land and bite him. Will tries to avert his eyes and keep smiling.
I am an adult and I have seen some shit, but when we got to the hospital for the first time and Caleb’s mother broke down sobbing in my arms, when I saw Caleb lying slumped in the hospital bed, left eye drooping and speech slurred, it was all I could do to keep my composure, put on a sunny face for all of them as my heart broke. Sure y’all, look at us all joking around about the gross hospital food and the toilet on wheels! If we keep pretending this isn’t so bad maybe Caleb won’t notice either! (It was bad, it was so very bad.)
And yet, here is my son, all smiles, just 17 years old, cutting up with his best friend as boys do, teasing Caleb to laughter about his crap taste in music, giving him hell and urging him to shoot him a bird if he doesn’t like it, just try and use his dead left hand to do it. The hand Caleb writes with. The hand he uses most to play his guitar.
We stayed for two hours, through Caleb’s dinner as his mom wiped pudding off his face like a toddler. When it was time to leave, Will hugged the boy in the bed and said, a little shakily, “You’re gonna be ok. You know? You win these!” Caleb’s good right eye searched Will’s face desperately wanting to believe what he said was true. “I’ll be back to see you soon, bro.”
Will barely made it to the hallway before tears were streaming down his cheeks. I held his arm tight as we hurried to the elevator - I’m here for you, I’m here for you, I’m here for you - and we rushed to the parking lot. No boy wants to break down in public.
As soon as we closed my car door, his head was in his hands. “I didn’t know,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know he would be like that. When I walked in the room and his speech was slurred I thought ‘Please, please just let him be drugged.’ And then I saw his face and his eye, mom, and his mouth, they were all droopy! I just didn’t know. When he ate, he didn’t even realize there was food on his face. Every time I think of it my throat aches.”
I rubbed his back as he cried, and I cried with him. A life in tatters. A broken boy. Innocence lost. Isn’t one of the joys of youth the mirage of being bulletproof? It tore Will’s heart to shreds seeing his best friend laid so low. And just as awful, the knowledge that, guess what, you aren’t immortal, kid. You can be 18 and six weeks out from your high school graduation and an unexplainable stroke hits you on a lazy Monday morning and all your plans, your dreams of going to college and playing guitar and singing on a big stage in a big city…all of that can disappear in one moment with a senseless explosion in your brain. The universe can be a real fucker. All cried out, we went home and I counted my blessings a little more reverently than usual.
It’s amazing the strides Caleb has been making already- figuratively and literally. Today he texted Will and told him that, in physical therapy, he was able to move his left fingers a little more than yesterday and he even tried walking with the help of a doctor. The smile on Will’s face when he told me was beatific. Sometimes hope is all we have. I have to believe, for all of us, that Caleb comes out of this stronger than ever before and with one hell of a story to tell when he’s famous.
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Date: 2024-07-06 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2024-07-07 03:27 pm (UTC)Kudos to your son for his compassion and courage, and to you for yours. Sending good wishes.
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Date: 2024-07-07 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 12:20 am (UTC)This was difficult for me to read because over the past several years, my brother-in-law had two strokes. The first one happened while he was at work, and while he lost some of his peripheral vision, the other affects were very minor. Last year, he had a brain bleed while driving in another city, and my wife and I spent a month working half days, driving to visit him in the hospital, and then back home again. All of that to say, he's living with us now, has returned to work, and apart from some short-term memory issues has largely recovered. So, there is hope!
All the best to you, your son, and Caleb!
Dan
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Date: 2024-07-09 09:36 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
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