Hard Truths

If I was to tell you that this week had been easy, that would be a bold faced lie. In fact it was horrendous. Wednesday was November 6th. The 2 year anniversary of the tragic accident that started the domino effect.

I remember everything about that day. From the fact I stayed home with a migraine, to the fact that Mark’s boss John pretended he was Connor’s Uncle to “grease ” the wheels at Baystate before we got there. I know what I had on, because I wore the same thing for 3 days, until Kyle & Holly brought me some new clothes from home. Eventually we made a Kohl’s run for leggings and a sweater.

I remember his room being kept so cold, because he had a brain injury. So we had extra blankets on us that night to stay warm. I remember watching that ICP # like a hawk. Fixated on it, because it wasn’t supposed to go over 20.

At one point in time, a trauma doctor came in to check him. His ICP# was 2. I was internally so happy because it was low. He said to the nurse, “I’m concerned it is too low, the brain stem is herniated.” Those words went in one ear and out the other, I didn’t want to hear, or absorb them. All I wanted was for Connor to recover.

But it wasn’t meant to be. More CAT scans, the ICP removal, a surgery to remove a section of his skull, and finally an MRI, confirmed those words that doctor uttered that first night.

My world crumbled, like a delicate sugar cookie. All of a sudden the worst case scenario was here. A parents worst nightmare, and to have to make the decision to turn off the machines. All those beeps, and the whooshing of the ventilator that had breathed for him for 11 days. My brain knows it was the right decision, but convincing my heart of that..I’m not sure that will ever happen.