Trigger warning: child dying.
It's odd I haven't written for 2 years. I just lost my drive... Lost the time... Felt like it was all so monotonous, there wasn't much point. Only two major events happened. Nico started kindergarten at a special school last year and was enjoying it mostly. Hated drop off time but was gone 5 minutes later. He was in ICU again last winter. Pneumonia again but worse. He was intubated and sedated (induced coma on life support basically) for 4 days. But he came good... As he always did.
Until 2 weeks ago. Writing this is my therapy. My road to healing. Stop reading now if you don't want to know how the world as you know it can change in a split second. That scenes you only see in movies ... They happen.
Every story can start with the phrase "It was just a normal day" and yes, it really was. Except that Nico had 'slept well' (we hadn't heard anything since 1am), the morning was the usual before school run about: lunches, hair, "Mum, where's my book bag??" type of day before my husband dropped Brooklyn to school. Nico was still sleeping and I was due to start work at 930. I logged in a little early to see if it was busy. I contemplated waking Nico but decided against it- a child needs their sleep. I messaged my team and asked about the morning and since they needed me, I jumped into the system. Geoff got home, sat down with a coffee and asked if he should go wake Nico. I shrugged and he gave it 10 more minutes. Between calls, I hear him open the door, make a weird yelp and yell "No! Oh my god! KAZZ!!!!" and I froze. That instant parental paranoia panic hit and I scream back at him "DONT!! You don't yell like that you freak me out!!" I scold him as walk in ... My husband... my big, ex-rugby playing husband ... hunched over the bed rail. Sobbing. "He's gone. He's cold. He's gone". Me clawing past to get the bed side down... Not understanding... Sure there's been a mistake. There has to have been a mistake. There was no mistake. I run. I grab Geoff's phone and I run. Dialling 911 (yes... 911... Don't ask!) I run down our drive knowing I can't speak, making I-don't-know-what sounds but I'm not crying... I'm just howling in shock and disbelief. I don't hear the person answering's words. I'm halfway to the neighbours. "Ummm. Sorry. I don't know. My son. He's 4. I think he's dead" and I just howl and keep running. My neighbour opens the door and I just shove the phone in her face. "Nico" is all I can get out. And I run home with her tow.
It feels like the ambulance is there before we are... I know it's impossible but I have no idea what happened in between. I just huff and puff pacing around my house trying hard to keep myself breathing. Going anywhere but in that room. The ambos don't take long to come back out and tell us there was nothing they could do and he'd been gone for hours.
The howling was replaced by more human crying and tears now. I called my mum. I still couldn't speak but you can't really text your mother that kind of thing. Between sobs I told her "Nico. We. Lost. Nico." And she just handed me to dad. I spluttered the same staccato words. He heard but didn't understand me. I envisaged him wondering how we could possibly lose a child in a wheelchair. Then the penny dropped.
Next there are police ... Two, then four... Then 8. They tell us it's all just procedure and they're so sorry to have to be there. They're uncomfortable. They don't know what to say. I feel like a robot or a zombie. I'm functioning but I'm not there. They tell us how the station stops when they get these type of call outs. An officer stands guard at Nico's door. Two take us to the lounge to get as much info as we can give. I rattle off the major points of Nico's history with precision. It's something that rattles off my tongue in chronological order with ease, I've been doing it for 4 years.
Born at 24 weeks.
7/8 months in NICU.
Ventilated for 10 weeks.
PDA ligation at 6 weeks.
Bilateral hernia repairs.
CP diagnosed at 10/11 months. Non verbal and no real controlled movement
Multiple hospital admissions.
PEG inserted at 1 12 years old
ICU in April 2012 and June 2013.
Intubated only that 2nd time....
The police officer just looks at me. He looks at the ground. He shakes his head in sadness. I think he understands: we never pictured our troublesome little fighter to go like this. We knew it was likely he could go before us. We just thought it would be the way he came into the world... Surrounded by a flurry of doctors and nurses and beeping machines.
We thought we would have time.
We thought we would get warning.
We thought would be 'prepared' - a ridiculous notion.
There is no preparation. No one could prepare for their heart to be ripped from their body like this. Warning would not have helped.
It's odd I haven't written for 2 years. I just lost my drive... Lost the time... Felt like it was all so monotonous, there wasn't much point. Only two major events happened. Nico started kindergarten at a special school last year and was enjoying it mostly. Hated drop off time but was gone 5 minutes later. He was in ICU again last winter. Pneumonia again but worse. He was intubated and sedated (induced coma on life support basically) for 4 days. But he came good... As he always did.
Until 2 weeks ago. Writing this is my therapy. My road to healing. Stop reading now if you don't want to know how the world as you know it can change in a split second. That scenes you only see in movies ... They happen.
Every story can start with the phrase "It was just a normal day" and yes, it really was. Except that Nico had 'slept well' (we hadn't heard anything since 1am), the morning was the usual before school run about: lunches, hair, "Mum, where's my book bag??" type of day before my husband dropped Brooklyn to school. Nico was still sleeping and I was due to start work at 930. I logged in a little early to see if it was busy. I contemplated waking Nico but decided against it- a child needs their sleep. I messaged my team and asked about the morning and since they needed me, I jumped into the system. Geoff got home, sat down with a coffee and asked if he should go wake Nico. I shrugged and he gave it 10 more minutes. Between calls, I hear him open the door, make a weird yelp and yell "No! Oh my god! KAZZ!!!!" and I froze. That instant parental paranoia panic hit and I scream back at him "DONT!! You don't yell like that you freak me out!!" I scold him as walk in ... My husband... my big, ex-rugby playing husband ... hunched over the bed rail. Sobbing. "He's gone. He's cold. He's gone". Me clawing past to get the bed side down... Not understanding... Sure there's been a mistake. There has to have been a mistake. There was no mistake. I run. I grab Geoff's phone and I run. Dialling 911 (yes... 911... Don't ask!) I run down our drive knowing I can't speak, making I-don't-know-what sounds but I'm not crying... I'm just howling in shock and disbelief. I don't hear the person answering's words. I'm halfway to the neighbours. "Ummm. Sorry. I don't know. My son. He's 4. I think he's dead" and I just howl and keep running. My neighbour opens the door and I just shove the phone in her face. "Nico" is all I can get out. And I run home with her tow.
It feels like the ambulance is there before we are... I know it's impossible but I have no idea what happened in between. I just huff and puff pacing around my house trying hard to keep myself breathing. Going anywhere but in that room. The ambos don't take long to come back out and tell us there was nothing they could do and he'd been gone for hours.
The howling was replaced by more human crying and tears now. I called my mum. I still couldn't speak but you can't really text your mother that kind of thing. Between sobs I told her "Nico. We. Lost. Nico." And she just handed me to dad. I spluttered the same staccato words. He heard but didn't understand me. I envisaged him wondering how we could possibly lose a child in a wheelchair. Then the penny dropped.
Next there are police ... Two, then four... Then 8. They tell us it's all just procedure and they're so sorry to have to be there. They're uncomfortable. They don't know what to say. I feel like a robot or a zombie. I'm functioning but I'm not there. They tell us how the station stops when they get these type of call outs. An officer stands guard at Nico's door. Two take us to the lounge to get as much info as we can give. I rattle off the major points of Nico's history with precision. It's something that rattles off my tongue in chronological order with ease, I've been doing it for 4 years.
Born at 24 weeks.
7/8 months in NICU.
Ventilated for 10 weeks.
PDA ligation at 6 weeks.
Bilateral hernia repairs.
CP diagnosed at 10/11 months. Non verbal and no real controlled movement
Multiple hospital admissions.
PEG inserted at 1 12 years old
ICU in April 2012 and June 2013.
Intubated only that 2nd time....
The police officer just looks at me. He looks at the ground. He shakes his head in sadness. I think he understands: we never pictured our troublesome little fighter to go like this. We knew it was likely he could go before us. We just thought it would be the way he came into the world... Surrounded by a flurry of doctors and nurses and beeping machines.
We thought we would have time.
We thought we would get warning.
We thought would be 'prepared' - a ridiculous notion.
There is no preparation. No one could prepare for their heart to be ripped from their body like this. Warning would not have helped.
