Seizures, and an outpouring of history.

It has been another busy weekend, but Mike and I did manage to spend some time together. This was also the first weekend since Jude had an increase in his medication, but I am afraid we still witnessed a few violent seizures. I hate the fact the seizures are beginning to become violent and audible again. I wish there was someway to stop them in a more permanent manner, but that doesn't ever seem like it will be possible. It seems we all have our battles from feeding tubes, illness, to seizures. Jude's are 100% the horrible violent seizures.

Tonight Mike and I watched "My Sisters Keeper". I had mentioned before that I had read the book which was fabulous, but the movie was great too. The book was better, but as a parent of an ill child I almost selfishly want everyone in the world to watch this show. The movie does a good job of portraying not only a sick child, but the many duties of caring for a that child. This means it can get messy at times, but with love you take care of your family member. When the girl with cancer needed her sister to wipe the blood away from her nose, and clean up her soiled sheets, and her back I lost it. I cried my heart out, but I guess it's because I knew Emily would do the same, but I don't ever want her to have to do that. While watching this movie I had many thoughts flutter through my mind. I thought about my many friends I have met online with children afflicted by Cancer, heart conditions, and strokes. I thought about the feeding tubes, medications, and hospital stays these people endure, and how amazing their strength is. I thought about how the doctors must feel, the parents, the siblings, and of course the patient. I agreed with the line in the movie that when you have an ill child in your family the very foundation the family is built upon has cracks that at any time could implode. This led to other thoughts.

There are many situations in my life that I have previously skimmed through in a blog, but I have not gone into detail. One of those instances was April 5, 1988. The date still rings in my ears, and as I typed it I literally got chills. Prior to this date I had an unfortunate tragedy in my family because my mother died, and that led to a trickle affect that led me to living with my grandparents. They were amazing people, God rest their souls, and while living their I met an amazing boy named Chris. He was only 16, and in my eyes just beautiful. He was tall with tan skin, big brown eyes, sandy blonde hair, and a smile that would light up a room. He was in my mind my very first true love, and I adored everything about him. I waited in anticipation for his phone calls, and would giggle like the young girl I was in regards to anything he said. We spent hours on the phone, and all my thoughts focused on this wonderful boy. Unfortunatley, we both had issues in our lives, and slowly those lives walked a path of fate that I wouldn't like at all. Since we lived about forty minutes from each other it was difficult to see each other, so Chris would sneak over at night. We were so young, and this was wrong, but it was so exciting. I was so innocent (and stayed that way thank you), but I still snuck out with him, and we would just sit and talk for hours. One night we got caught sneaking out, and Chris was so upset he had disappointed his parents. The next day he called me at school, and when they pulled me out of class I knew he was on the phone. In a low voice he told me he planned to kill himself. He had spoken these words before, and had never followed through with any attempt. Therefore this time for some reason I put little thought into his words except to assure him I loved him dearly. I told him he couldn't do that because it would not be fair to me, or his parents. I thought he would be fine, and I hung up the phone............

I hung up the phone.............I shouldn't have. Later that day I was laying on the track field waiting on my race, when I popped up, and told the coach "I have to go home now!". I had the worst feeling creep across my body, and I called my grandfather to come get me. I sat in anticipation of the phone ringing, so I would hear his sweet voice, but the phone never rang. I called his house, but his mother answered which never happens, and I in my young 15 year old fear, hung up. Soon his best friend called, and told me the worst, Chris had in fact killed himself. I was shocked, sick, and desperate. His mother walked in from work only to find him dead. I won't go into the details, but it was more than any mother should ever face. He didn't want to die, and there was evidence of that, but teenagers believe they are immortal until reality takes control. So he died so young on April 5, 1988. Why am I writing about this? Because I needed to, and because sickness in children presents itself in different ways, not only in situation as prominent as others. He needed help, and they had tried to get it for him. We should always listen when someone threatens to take their own lives, because sometimes they might follow through. I have never spoken with his mother after this, and in some ways I have blamed myself, and wondered if she did too. I have talked to his dad, and sister, who were both very kind. Each year I still venture out the the cemetery and leave carnations in his memory.

In our lives we encounter situations that ready us for more difficult situations in our lives. Many times I have felt that I have had my mother, and Chris holding my hand during tragic times, and times I have felt very alone. His suicide was probably the hardest thing I had ever been through until Jude's situation, but maybe I am better equipped to handle this journey because of what happened before. All I know is that for some crazy reason a bright light in the world was quickly extinguished. I could speak for hours to teenagers about how selfish it is to take your own life, but I am not sure they would listen, I would still tell them though. Rather than focusing on the very sad funeral where I felt so lost, I choose to remember the last night I saw Chris. He was standing in the moonlight with his sandy blonde hair, such a beautiful boy, who will never grow older. I wonder what would have happened in his life if he had. I had a dream before I married Mike that Chris told me, "this is right". Who knows if it was him or not, but his tragic circumstance definitely prepared me for today. Somehow I still feel those that have left us help guide us today, and maybe that's true. I remember him fondley though, and I hope he is somewhere where he is much happier than he was here.