In retrospect, I wish I would’ve had enough nerve to slap
her across the face. Hurt her for
telling my husband and me that our son is dying with such nonchaleontless, no
empathy in her voice, not any sign of remorse in her eyes. She stated this as easily as she could’ve
been saying, “I’m sorry, we are out of the tacos, could I interest you in our soup de jour?”
I don’t even remember her name. She is simply a face to me now. A doctor that knew nothing of our lives, just
what was written on paper. A day I will
never forget is the day she told me my son was going to die. And not just die, but go deaf, blind, have
seizures and have extreme nerve pain and then die. He was going to die from respiratory failure. He is going to suffocate to death.
Her and her colleague came into William’s waiting room with
the MRI results. They brought it up on
the screen and was showing us areas of our son’s brain that had white spots
where there shouldn’t be. I have a
reoccurring nightmare that I have had since I was a child. Its where I can’t breathe, and I try to run down the hall to my parents’ bedroom but I can’t move.
I try and scream but no one can hear me.
This day was much much worse than that.
“So,” I ask, “What does the white matter mean?” She states a whole bunch of words I cannot
recall, but one I do recall is “damage”.
I’m thinking, damage? How? He was born completely healthly, has never
run a fever, just smiled and cooed at me a moment ago, and now you’re telling
me there is damage? How? What DOES IT MEAN?
Then she says, “You’ll need to sit down.” My mind shut off. It went numb from that point on. I knew whatever it was she didn’t want me face
planting on the floor, then they’d have another situation to deal with. “You’re son is going to die. Make plans now because he
will go blind and deaf soon. He will
have a seizure soon, too.” After
screaming and yelling things I don’t recall, I remember the feeling of emptiness and asking, “How
long?” She states, "He will die by his 2nd
birthday, but maybe sooner."
