Seeing what I don't want to become

I was driving in my truck earlier this week, when a familiar song came on the radio. The song was one that was part of Johnny's funeral. I would have thought that it would take me back to a memory of the funeral, but it didn't. Instead, hearing that song instantly brought back a memory with Johnny from way back in May.

It was May 19th. Johnny was in the hospital. He was almost one month old and we hadn't had him home yet. He had made it through his surgeries and was doing quite well but he had a number of lingering things going on that were keeping him from going home. It had not been a good day, some mix-ups at the hospital, appointment and exam scheduling problems, they weren't letting Johnny have food because the doctors were worried about an infection that turned out to be nothing. Later that day Johnny would go in for an MRI to examine his neurological development. It was stressful at the time to think about all the "what if's" the doctors had laid out for us but in the end everything was fine neurologically, but we didn't know it at the time. In order to have the MRI, they had to use anesthesia to keep Johnny still on the table so the whole thing was almost like a surgery as far as the time required and waiting.

It was late in the day, probably after 4 or 5pm and I had just arrived to the surgery waiting area. Unlike any other time, the waiting area was empty. The drab little room had become an all too familiar place. The monitor on the wall had multiple rows of entries showing other kids from the day that had undergone surgery. All rows had the little symbol meaning "recovery room" or "exit" except the line with the birth date 04/20/2008 - Johnny's entry.

I sat down on a chair and opened my laptop, probably to record a blog entry or do some work or email, I can't remember. I had not been there long when a man and a woman walked into the room. They were older then me, probably in their late 40's or early 50's. The woman was walking with a cane and looked to have a disability of some sort with her leg. The man was talking to her. She wasn't saying much. As they took their seats, I couldn't help but over hear the conversation in the quiet of the waiting room.

The man was going on and on about all that had gone wrong that day, the problems with the hospital, the doctors, everything. The woman sat quietly beside him, staring straight ahead. I guessed they were married. The man started to talk about their daughter. I acted like I was continuing to work on my laptop, but I was listening. It sounded like their daughter was older, maybe mid or late teens, and had been in the hospital many times. I couldn't figure out what her diagnosis was, but it sounded like they had been through a long series of medical issues and challenges with their daughter. She was in surgery for something.

The man didn't stop talking. He was negative and discouraging about everything, just going on and on about all of their problems.

A doctor came out to see them. The man was short tempered and unpleasant with the doctors. His wife was quiet and looked visibly embarrassed over how the man was acting. The doctor left and they returned to their seats. The man then gave his wife a long sermon about all the things wrong with doctors, and the hospital. I felt terrible for his wife. Here this woman was, with her child in the hospital going through surgery, and she was with one of the most negative and discouraging people I had observed in a long time.

As I sat there taking all this in, I contemplated our own situation with Johnny. And I realized that as much as I didn't want to admit it, I could turn out just like this man I was watching. The stress of having a child in the hospital, going through so much, trying to balance home life with everything else, trying to maintain your job, witnessing things as a husband and father for your family that are just heartbreaking....it all presses down on you on a daily basis. It looked like this couple had been going through this for years. And at least for the man, it had beaten him down to the point that he didn't seem like he had much if any hope left. His mind and attitude was lost in a world of negative thoughts and bitterness over his situation, and his family was suffering because of it.

I thought back to that scene many times in the coming weeks and months. On more than one occasion, I prayed to God that he would lift and carry the burdens and difficulties for me, and for our family, and protect us from falling into a state of bitterness and lost hope from which we might never recover. In the weeks after Johnny died, there were moments when I really felt like I was at a crossroads. The things that had happened to us could tear us apart, and ruin our lives. I had heard of this happening to other people in similar circumstances. I don't know if you ever reach a point where you can say you have put enough distance between yourself and what has happened that you are "out of the woods" and everybody will be "fine". We are forever changed by what has happened, the key question is what kind of change is it? With each day, by the grace of God, I feel that our family is continuing on a path of healing. There are certainly difficult days and challenges, but I have more reassurance each day that I will not become like that man I observed that day. And for that, I am thankful.