In Awe. Progeny Blows Mind. Again.

Today I went to Children’s Hospital Boston with my eldest son, “Mr. Man.”

He’s had chronic constipation from birth, which manifested itself in leaky bladder when he started nursery school. Basically he looks like he’s wet his pants.  Kids can be cruel. In nursery school everyone has wet pants. In 4th grade, not so much. So I’ve gone full “Mommy-Lioness protecting cubs” mode, we’re getting to the bottom of this issue ASAP.

So,  now Mr. Man is going into the 1st grade, we’ve moved from pediatrician to world-class urology specialist and multiple catheter tests.

You heard me. Multiple. Catheters.

This meant for today’s partial flow dynamics and trip to radiology  necessitated Mr. Man to be tubed for almost 3 hours straight. And he was tubed everywhere. I don’t even think I was tubed that much when delivering the twins. And my friends, that’s saying a lot.

What says more is that he didn’t even complain. Not once. In fact, while writing this I  think I am complaining for him because I feel that SOMEONE should bitch. Because, dammit, it sucked. Completely and totally.

I should make a HUGE caveat that it was the actual procedures that we’re talking about. Nothing could stop that. What didn’t suck was Children’s Hospital Boston. I can’t wax on enough about Children’s. They do an amazing job. At every turn. Even during a dreaded episode a special “Child Life Specialist” Mary Poppins parachuted in laden with stickers, coloring books, and stuffed animals that made Mr. Man’s twin sister “The Toaster” green with envy.

That’s not all, in past visits we’ve been willingly mugged by roaming band of clowns from Big Apple Circus, or the staff tolerated Mr. Man getting his excess energy out by hopping, jumping, skipping and jumping-jack’d he way around radiology. They have art everywhere. Fish tanks. Videos and DVD’s for every procedure. A giant ball machine/art installation in the lobby that can mesmerize the toughest of customer. And I am barely scratching the surface. Then, of course, there is the world-class facilities and staff.

So back to today. We knew this “test” day was coming. We’ve done quite a few in the past 2 1/2 years at Children’s, including one that is now know as “The Blood Test” in family lore (see “Child Life Specialist” above.) Or at least in Mommy Lore. Since then, I’m prepared to have every other test become a Battle Royal. So with this in mind I prepare. I read the literature, I prep him both physically (they wanted his system cleaned out… enough said.) and mentally by having a heart-to-heart about the procedures. I also am a big believer in “The Carrot” theory of parenting for times like this. Mr. Man loves Star Wars. He loves LEGO. Nothing beats Star Wars LEGO. NOTHING. So off I took Mr. Man on a scouting trip to the local LEGO store.  Still I was preparing for the worst. My husband reminded me to think positive and be supportive. Yet, I think I still expected the worst.

And I was shamed at every turn by this amazing little boy.

As the bar is raised, my son raises the bar. In a previous test, he couldn’t be sedated (a mix-up) for the planned 40+ min MRI, yet he was managed to be still as a statue for what ended up being an hour procedure. And this is a kid that runs not walks, whose fearless, zippy zest for life forces lifeguards to pick up and relocate next to him (us) at the beach. So for him to sit still, quiet, barely breathing for almost an hour is like saying he sleeps in. Which he never does. Ever. And after the MRI was over, he hopped off with an “It ain’t no big thang Mama” attitude,  loping by his gobsmacked Mom.

Mind Blown. Totally impressed by my 5 year old.

Today was the second time. Visibly uncomfortable, he was stoic. It was so very hard to see my little boy in pain, though necessary for his own long-term benefit. He was beautiful. He was grace under pressure. He cloaked himself in grown-up courage and stiff-upper lipped his way through what fine friend said “what no child should have to go through,” sailing way passed my pre-conceived notions what probably was going to happen.

I was never prouder. Nor in more awe.

Today that little boy was a breathing strawberry-blond haired embodiment of awesomeness clasping two stuffed Border Collie Pups and watching Star Wars II.

And that, my friends, was how my mind was blown a second time by my very own progeny.

One Response to “In Awe. Progeny Blows Mind. Again.”

1. Privacy, Internet & The Kids. Oh My! - The Liquid Betsy says:

   August 25, 2009 at 10:27 PM

   [...] I posted about my eldest son. Deeply personal. Cathartic. Almost necessary. The words wrote themselves. After hitting [...]