The Moment I Knew

For about two weeks when C was in the PICU, we had no idea of any long-term neurological effects from the code. While the doctors didn’t expect any neurological issues, they couldn’t say for sure. The code was fairly drawn out, and although he hadn’t lost a heartbeat, they did perform chest compressions, and with all those meds - well, we just didn’t know for certain.

Immediately after the code, his heart was functioning at far less than expected capacity and it was a day or so later that the cardiologist was able to determine that it was probably from the shock of the code and not from viral or other damage. Cardiac function returned to normal. Other organs were checked and rechecked, and all slowly returned to normal function as well. For all they could check with labs and ultrasounds and other means of examination, there were still some unknowns.

After the initial crisis, when C started to recover, he was still sedated a fair bit (indeed, to this day, he does not actively remember the hospital) and in pain from the surgery. Once he was off the ventilator and the sedation was lightened, he would mostly sleep, but fitfully, and when he was awake he was spacey or cranky or both. Although indications were good, we hadn't had a chance to check cognitive function yet.

Late one night, at the beginning of the third week, I was sitting in C’s room while he dozed. My husband was sleeping and it was my turn in the room to just be with C. We were all settling in for the quiet overnight hours and I was trying to write, trying to get out some fragments of what had and was happening to us. I noticed a young woman on the other side of the curtain, outside the glass door to the PICU room.

When I acknowledged her, she came in and said who she was. She was carrying a gift bag. She worked with my husband on one of the adult floors on the other side of the hospital. The bag was a gift from some of the nurses over there.

We spoke quietly, chatting a little while I opened the bag. There was a snowy owl puppet, as the nurses had heard C was into Harry Potter. I smiled, and then realized that I couldn’t remember the name of Harry Potter’s owl. I laughed as I said as much to the gift bearer.

I looked back at C. His eyes were half open. “Hey, C,” I said, “What’s the name of Harry Potter’s owl?”

A groggy, low voice came back, “Hedwig.”

It was at that moment I knew that – eventually - he’d be okay.