Just Write {90}

In the next room there was a consistent beep. The high sound of keeping track. There was a child we couldn’t see, connected to the beeping as it kept track of a little heart. From another room, a baby was crying. Our Asher was on the hospital bed in front of us and he looked puffy and flushed. He has a fever and so much pain in his noggin. We didn’t know if his hydrocephalus is bothering him in the heat, or if his shunt is malfunctioning, or both. We were waiting to see.

The doctor checked him over and had a few theories. Then we went in for a catscan, down the hall. Asher was asking me lots of questions while I said, You have to be really still.

Why, Mommy?

For the pictures.

Okay. Then he held his little white lamb blanket close to his chest.

He never remembers doing this from one time to the next, not clearly enough to remain question-free. It’s not old hat and I’m suddenly kind of glad about that. He’s okay, I said to me.

This is our first time going to a Children’s Hospital in Austin and the halls are different and the people are different but it doesn’t matter because one thing is always the same about this. People are really good to you at Children’s hospitals. The doctors are really good at what they do and they relate like no one else can. Most of the time they say that Asher looks like Ralphie on A Christmas Story.

That’s true. It makes me smile when people say that.

I stared at him while we waited for the results. Having him is always going to be one of Life’s greatest lessons. When he hurts, I want to fix him. When he hurts, I look at him longer. I look at Miles and Elsie longer, too. I look at having them and I can’t stand how good it is. Asher is a gift and so is his condition. He will always have special needs but those words don’t really describe him. It’s more like he is an answer to my special needs.

As it turns out, his catscan showed no signs of a shunt malfunction. His ventricles looked normal and the specialists think he has some kind of virus that is giving him a temp and such bad headaches.

Ryan and I both said a big loud-whispered, GOOD, when we were told this.

He’s okay.

Asher grinned from the bed and asked to get on the iPad. He just sat there like nothing happened at all, with his dirty feet and mop of blond hair and he looked up over his glasses with those big blue eyes and he got his way. On the drive home I realized my shoulders were nearly up to my years, tight and afraid of me, of Life, of Loss. I took a deep breath and let them drop and then we all went in the house. I watched my family and then I went outside to mow the lawn and pull weeds. I pulled and pulled and pulled. I suppose I was doing what I can do, and it felt good, to keep going with Life.

:::::

This is the 90th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {Please see the details here.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page, and please don’t link to posts that are not freely written in the spirit of capturing moments–you know, don’t link to how-to lists or sponsored posts. Also, please link back to this post in your post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.

Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word? Thank you!