Hello, My Name is Grief

I’m a light sleeper, and my wife is not, so she graciously allowed me be the one go home at night to sleep while she stayed at the hospital with Asher for those first couple of days. I would typically get home before midnight, do a quick check on things, and go to straight to bed. Sleep wasn’t hard to come by because I was so exhausted. But each morning I would wake up, and the weight of it would hit me, and weep in the shower. A new companion named Grief had come into my life. Every day was a shock and a disbelief of wondering if this was real, or just a nightmare from which I would wake soon. I would have to give grief it’s moment, and then compartmentalize it for the rest of the day so that I could function.

The day of the biopsy, Asher’s neurosurgeon was talking with him about how long it might take him to fall asleep when they give him the anesthesia. I don’t recall what number they settled on, but she told us afterward that they were talking about his favorite music before he went under. She said the whole surgical team was singing Bon Jovi’s “Livin on a Prayer” with him as he fell asleep. Asher was just that kind of fun, like-able kid.

The neurosurgeon explained that we should expect a palsy on one side of Asher’s face due to the biopsy, but that with time and steroids, it should return to normal. The anesthesia put him out hard, but when he finally stirred later in the afternoon, what I saw broke my heart. My boy who always woke up bright-eyed instead woke with a cry of anguish from a partially paralyzed face. Being told to expect it didn’t soften the blow. My first thought was that the tumor had already begun to take bits of my son away.

The biopsy was Asher’s first experience with anesthesia, and he did not like it at all. He was released from the hospital on Sunday to recover and spend a few days at home before leaving for Memphis. He was groggy nearly the entire time. I had to walk behind him to make sure he didn’t fall over. He started using a cane my father had picked up for him, because he was so unsteady. We had lots of family present, trying to maximize time with him before we left. Some of his friends even came by, but for the most part, all he wanted to do was lie down.

Before we ever left the hospital, I had become concerned about making sure we could take care of Asher, should he need anything at all, even in the middle of the night. Both of my children hated sleeping alone, so I had some friends put the two queen beds in our house next to each other in the master bedroom into what I called “The Super Bed.” So on our first night back home, we got the kids ready for bed, and I was able to tell Asher that he would never sleep alone, ever again. It was one of many examples in which we tried, even in little ways, to cultivate happiness in dark spaces.