Son’s Recovery Slow But Enlightening

I started a new job Monday. Thank God, too… it is good therapy. Dylan is taking care of himself now, making his own meals, recovering on his own weird ’sleep-all-day, stay-up-all-night’ pace. Whatever works for him. We converted our extra bedroom into a recording studio for him to use, even though we already have another studio set up on our property. He uses computers. We play through amps. We are so old school. Our musical tastes have such a wide range, my son turned to jazz in rebellion. But I have to give him credit. He’s turned me onto some really great music, and being a drummer, I am in awe of his ability to figure out the complex, progressive rhythms.

It is such a joy to watch him recovering, after being sick for so long. It has been hard, but just like dealing with any adversity, it has made me stronger. I have discovered how much patience I actually do have. I have learned empathy for others with sick children, and find gratitude in the fact that my child is doing well. I have experienced the kindness and caring of friends, co-workers and strangers. I have learned to live with the fact I cannot expect the same from my family or my husband’s family. I have accepted that this is our burden, and blessing, to struggle with and learn from.

I am a better person because of Dylan… when he was born, I grew up. I also knew what unconditional love felt like for the first time in my life. And I watched in awe as he suffered, knowing that I would not be nearly as cool if I were in that situation. And even though Dylan will be 17 this month, his illness made me overprotective… I’m sure he would just call it annoying. But that’s ok. He can roll his eyes all he wants… at the end of the day, I know he loves me. We make each other laugh… we have long conversations about politics, music, movies and books. We get really competitive at Scrabble. We have enough in common to keep us close.

I am beginning to see all the love my husband and I have shown him being repaid now, even at this age. He is very protective of me, and comes and hugs me if I am sad. After all the years of comforting him, it feels good to have him wrap me in his long, warm arms. It feels rewarding. But it isn’t all just about me. I believe the sickness taught him compassion.

I’m slowly realizing that he is on the threshold of manhood, and I can let him go, although it will be a little bit at a time. I feel sad that his childhood was interrupted when Crohn’s disease thrust him into a world of pain, fear, medication, doctors and hospitals…. But, on the other hand, I am comforted by his endurance, grace under pressure, and maturity. Not that he doesn’t get frustrated and angry. But he told me he stopped asking “why?” a long time ago. He said it was the same as wondering why he wasn’t born in a third world country. He is very wise. And I am very lucky. 

 

 

Sadness, I Thought I Knew Thee

I thought after 42 years, I knew sadness. I thought I felt it when my father rejected and abused me, and when I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back. I could have sworn it was there when I lost the best job I ever had, considered divorce, buried family members, and heard my child was chronically ill.

But I had to look into my son’s eyes to see it for the first time. True sadness. I’ve seen him scared, in pain, angry, frustrated and confused. But not sad. Not hopeless… until now.

His resection was around 6 weeks ago, and his recovery is not going as fast as he had planned. He had hoped to be physically stronger by now. But Crohn’s disease kicked the crap out of him for three years at least, not to mention the medications and side effects. A normal recovery is around 8 weeks. He is on schedule, but he is sick of being sick and Lord knows I don’t blame him.

Two neighbors, who were like sisters to him, moved away, then he got sick. That would have been enough, but then being too ill to finish school, and losing contact with most of his friends has made him hesitant with others. I watched my happy, healthy little boy grow into a pale, thin young man with pain in his face. He is well versed in the disappointment that shape many of us during our the teens. He has learned an early lesson in the fleeting nature of friendship and loyalty. I wish some of these things he didn’t have to learn all at once.

I had been planning to return to work. But I have unemployment until July, and I am going to spend it trying to help him to learn to enjoy life again. Even if it is 15 minutes at a time.

 

 

Quiet Homecoming

I have to savor this moment, and all the moments to follow. I had to stop and write down how this feels. My son is being released from the hospital today. I am on my way to sit with him until his discharge papers catch up with him. And the next time we walk in this house, he will be at home without the symptoms of Crohn’s disease. He will be able to see his life now without looking through a lense of pain and limitations. It is a wonderful beginning for him. For all of us. Maybe we can actually get on with living now.

I feel years of worry just beginning to lift from my aching shoulders. Though I would carry that burden again in a minute if needed. Like I am needed now, about 15 miles away.

So I’m going to bring my son home.