Friday, May 02, 2008, posted by Q6 at 8:36 PM
This week I was reminded that I am a parent. I did not receive this message in a heart-to-heart with my son, or from a bad report card grade, or from the boy's mother. This was not a reminder that came upon me gently--this one hit me like a brick to the side of the head.

My son, not even a month into his sixteenth year, experienced a medical problem while at school on Wednesday. Being an administrator at a high school, I know how such matters are supposed to be handled (which is probably why it wasn't handled that way). Although I am the primary contact for my son, the school chose instead to call his mother . . . who lives over 500 miles away. She called me, I called the school, and got into the car. My son was experiencing severe abdominal pain. As I broke only the speed laws I was aware of, then walked (briskly, and faster than the nurse, whom I left in the dust) to his classroom, I thought of two possibilities: appendicitis, or hernia (he has a tendency to overdo it in weight training). I got to the classroom as he was being loaded into the ambulance, and had enough time for only two things--to ask where the pain was (the left side, so the appendix was fine), and to hear him plead through tear streaked eyes, "Help me." The brick hit its mark, and I began to truly feel like a parent . . . utterly and completely helpless.

I beat the ambulance to the emergency room, and once he arrived he did something that hasn't happened in a long time: he reached out for my hand. Again, the brick reminded me that although in my professional life I control quite a bit, and in my personal life I control quite a bit, at this moment I controlled nothing. All I could do was hold his hand.

Many people asked about the pain, and his answers were pretty curt and unrevealing (when in severe pain, he's something of a dick--but he did apologize to the doctor later without my prompting . . . take that, brick). I learned enough from this exchange to know that the pain was too severe for hernia; and although I can't tell anything from looking at a blood sample, his urine looked a little dark for me.

Yep. A kidney stone.

Four Advil, three Tylenol with Codeine, and 36 hours later he peed out one tenth of a grain of sand, which tells me that the thing dissolved while he was managing the pain. Several people--including the ER doctor--tell me that the pain of kidney stones is worse than childbirth, so I don't fault him for his demeanor. I'm just glad he's okay.

He has this theory about his visits to the emergency room. They've occurred at the following ages: 2, 4, 8, and 16. Each visit occurs when his age equals his age at his last visit multiplied by two. If he's right, he won't be back until he's 32.

And if he's wrong, I will be there to hold his hand.
 
3 Comments:


At 7:28 PM, Anonymous Anonymous

wow. sucks to be hime. i feel so bad for him now....i was so worried when i found out he was in the hospital and then i found out it was kidney stones.

 

At 8:26 AM, Anonymous Anonymous

I am glad that you were there for him. You are a good Dad.

 

At 10:00 PM, Blogger Jim Connolly

That's what dad's do. Good ones, anyway.
Glad he's OK.