The Other Son

There is an interesting piece in the Health section of the New York Times today titled, “A Diagnosis for One, But an Impact Shared.” It’s about the fallout on siblings when a child has a life-changing diagnosis or accident.

I was glad to see an article about this. We certainly had a bit of this to deal with during and after C was sick. And we still are dealing with it, I think.

M was not quite 3 ½ when C became ill. During the thick of it all, he was quite the trouper. It really was amazing. He handled being passed off between his aunt and uncle and a couple of dear friends with (mostly) aplomb. We kept his preschool schedule and other activities as regular and normal as possible during the time, and I think that helped him. He slept in the room he and C share about half the time C was hospitalized – but in his brother’s bed.

While his visits to us at the hospital were welcome and we looked forward to his smile to brighten our difficult days, we could see after the first week that this was increasingly hard on him. Always an independent and boisterous child, his hugs and holds on us lingered longer and longer.

At some point, we realized that M had not actually seen his brother in over a week. Visits by children are not allowed in the PICU, so we had to speak with a couple of the attending physicians to get permission and guidance. We talked to Child/Life services about how to prepare him for what he would see. M still was not breathing on his own, and all persons entering his PICU room (save his parents) had to wear gowns and masks as the origin of the infection had not been identified (and still hasn’t been).

We dressed M in a gown and mask, and I took him into the PICU on my hip. We stayed only a few minutes, but M clearly was glad to verify the continued life of his adored big brother, and C, still barely conscious, recognized and was pleased to see his annoying little brother. I showed M the cards and photos on the wall. Told him that this was where we were all spending our days, reassuring him that we would all be home again, together, and hopefully soon.

Taking M in to see C that day clearly was the right thing, and provided a boost to his behavior with his caretakers over the next week or so.

As we came to the end of C’s hospital stay, we had a couple of nights for which one of us had to go home and stay with him. When we told him this was going to happen, M was so excited. For my night at home with him, I told him he could sleep in my bed and I would hold him all night long, if that’s what he wanted. He definitely wanted that – and made sure to tell his preschool teachers of this plan repeatedly on the day leading up to this evening.

Yes, my other son needed me home, and badly.

After C came home, M was excited to have is brother home and desperately needed things to get back to normal, but they didn’t and couldn’t. C still had an IV line in for the last doses of strong antibiotics, was being weaned off some fairly addictive pain medicine, and couldn’t walk. A visiting nurse and physical and occupational therapy were coming to the house regularly. My husband and I were pretty spent emotionally.

M started to act out. (Surprise!) Heck, C, as he got better, started to act out. We all desperately needed to get back to normal.

We never did.

Just when I felt like I was getting my bearings again, my father died and we all had to get out west for that (and it was a mess between my aunt and dad’s wife). Then soon enough I was pregnant with S, and C was having more fallout emotionally from his illness.

We had to start redefining normal.

Amid all that redefining, I still wonder if I did right by him and what he needed and needs after everything that happened to C (and him) and a new sibling, and so on. Did I take his resiliency for granted?

I hope not.

C’s illness happened to all of us. Every day I am thankful for the life and health of C and all of us, and I am thankful that my 3 ½ year old little man stepped up to the challenge that was presented to all of us.