Stories of Lost Children
Promised Child
by Kevin Seymour, Freeport, Grand Bahama, Bahamas
My Son was born forth afer 3 daughters, and although I love my girls, I have to admit that I was waiting for my Son for a long time. I'd had his name picked out 20 years before he was born, so when he finally showed up...It's vain and chauvenistic, I know, but I believe something in most men wants that chance to pass on his name. He was with us for 19 months. For most of that time my Wife and I made plans for him, loved him and cared for him. We noticed a chronic scalp rash (which we took for ringworm). He never was a big eater, but we never worried. He learned to walk, sit up and climb. Then at 15 months he developed jaundice, lost weight and stopped walking. We took him to several Doctors, before one took a blood profile (a MAC 25, I think), and saw that his blood chemistry was all over the place. The Doctor still had no idea what was wrong, but he recommended we fly him to Miami Childrens Hospital. We flew there immediately - concerned, but confident. Congratulating ourselves that we had the foresight, diligence and resources to make this short trip to heal our Son. After a 10 days and a battery of tests an MCH, the Doctor gave us the news. Our son had Langerhan's Cell Histiocytosis (LCH), a rare blood disease, similar to leukaemia in that there is an uncontrolled growth of histiocytes ( a type of white blood cell used in the autoimmune system), except the cells are not malignant. Apparently these cells were attacking his skin and now his liver. My Son was being attacked by his own body. Still, the prognosis was good. Though rare, MCH staff saw 3 or 4 cases per rare and could treat it with chemotherapy. We made more plans for my Wife to remain with our Son, with me rotating in from time to time to give her a break and come home. We checked our Son into the pediatric ward with other sick children. I remembered feeling sorry for the other parents on the Ward, most of whom had cancer or some other deadly disease, and thinking how glad I our Son wasn't so afflicted. For 3-1/2 months we fell into a routine. I would fly over every two weeks to see my Wife and Son. Every 2nd visit, my Wife would fly home, while I remained. Our Son went through biopsies and tests and chemotherapy. He got an implant to allow easier admistration of drugs...and meanwhile his liver and his skin grew worse. In November, after 3-1/2 months, we brought him home for 3 days (the first time since he was admitted and the last time in his life). I flew back to Miami after the short stay to continue his treatment and the Doctors gave me the news. Our Son wasn't reponding to treatment and his liver was deteriorating. They wanted to transfer him to a Hospital in Chicago that specialized in transplant. For the first time, the likelihood that our Son might die was raised. We had been praying for his healing throughout his hospitalization... We flew to Chicago in an Air Ambulance and arrived on a cold November gray day. My Wife joined me a few days later and, as before, we planned for the healing of our Son. We met Doctor afer Doctor, before one leveled with us... Our son was not responding to treatment because his liver limited the Chemo dosages, yet he could not be considered for a transplant until his disease was under control. I asked if my Son was going dying. The Doctor said "yes". Returning Home, I made plans to return in two weeks, while my Wife remained at our Son's side. One week later, my Wife called for me to return right away. It was Monday afternoon. Ran from plane to plane and arrived in Chicago shortly after midnight on Tuesday morning. I went straight to the Hospital where my Wife was in intensive care with our, now interbated Son. He was still alive, but his liver and kidneys had failed. He was bleeding from everywhere, his bones were brittle from the chemo so his arm had been broken - we didn't even know. The Doctors had induced a Coma to relieve his pain. He had had cardiac arrest but was revived. When i arrived in ICU, my Wife had already instructed them to clean him up so I would be spared the sight. She had used all of her strength to do that and I could see that she had withdrawn and resigned herself to losing him. Still... I could not let him go. Not yet. The nest Morning the Hospital called to tell me my Son had had another cardiac episode and asked me to come down. My Wife stayed away. There in the ICU I said goodbye and authorised the Hospital to not revive him if his heart stopped again. At 2:20 PM on Tuesday, Kyle Ethan Seymour died. He was 19 months old. For most of his illness we were so sure he would be healed. Everything we learned about Langerhans Cell Histiocytosis suggested that it was not normally fatal. We searced for reasons, meaning or a purpose for this loss. As so many other parents know, we could find none. It has been five years since our loss. We now have another son, Ethan Kyle Seymour. He looks just like his namesake and we watch for every rash, every cough, every cry. When Ethan was 19 months old, i couldn't stop crying....
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