We had an amazing day today thanks to Southwest Airlines, and a very special employee named Mr Chris Roth. Caelen and I were treated to a VIP day at Ft Lauderdale Airport, along with members of SW Airlines and a special, select crew from their ground team. I could go on and on about all of the amazing things that happened today, and I will in another blog, but what struck me most of all, was how blessed Caelen and I were today to be there. This isn't just about the letter I wrote to SW, their marketing team following us with cameras, or the spectacular day that Caelen got to enjoy, it's about life and Caelen's journey.
I got to thinking tonight (always a dangerous thing), but I was reflecting back on the day and watching Caelen be a celebrity today, then the image from 4 yrs ago popped into my head...the day Caelen almost died (the first time). I don't remember the exact date, it's not a day I celebrate or really care to remember. But it was a day in April, a day that I've tried to forget and block out of my memory. I'm not sure that I've ever really shared the details of that day/night, but here goes.
I knew that Caelen was sick, but no one in DC told me just how sick he truly was. My dad was in town and we were on our way to the hospital, as usual. Something about that day wasn't right, and I told my dad I didn't want to stay long, which was weird. I'd never not stayed the whole day.
Caelen got worse, the docs appeared more often, and scary talk was commencing, but my nurse assured me that they were being dramatic. I asked her, is Caelen so sick he's going to die? She said, "no!" And so I clung to that. Then the Dr wanted to get an arterial line because Caelen was going south, but I said no, his perfusion was low and I was worried that an art line would cause his fingers to lose perfusion and he would lose the fingers/hand. The nurse agreed with me. Then the Dr pulled my dad and I into a private room, and I will never forget his words. He sat me down in the private room, me facing the door, dad closest to the door facing me, and Dr B in between us looking at me. He said, "do you know that your son is so sick he might die today? Of the top 75 things wrong, the arterial line is the least of the worries." I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't focus, I just cried. My dad, trying to restrain himself from killing the doctor for his harsh words, composed himself and asked questions, and Dr B answered them. As much as my dad hated that Dr, I can only say of that moment, Dr B was the ONLY person to level with me and tell me the truth, Caelen was sick and was going to die today.
I called Martin and told him to get to the hospital immediately. He arrived and we spent the next many hours praying, crying, planning and calling a small group of family and friends. Things went from bad to worse. Our favorite night nurse, PJ came on and she fought like hell to keep Caelen with us. Dad took the first shift with Caelen and PJ, promising to come wake Martin and I up in he family sleep room if something happened. So off we went, pretending to sleep. I never actually did get slumber that night, but I prayed harder than I ever had, prayed that Caelen could just make it through the night, prayers of mircaculous healing, and finally prayers of defeat...that if God was going to take my baby, that it be fast, painless and without fear for Caelen.
With each prayer, I looked at the clock and watched the hours tick by, I was too scared to go back to Caelen's room. I knew that if something happened, the team knew where I was and would get me. So I "hid" in this dark room full of parents pretending to sleep, silently crying and praying, until the morning came and I gathered the strength to go back. Dad was still awake, talking with PJ, and Caelen was still alive. He made it through the night, and the team said that if he could do that, then he had a fighting chance.
So he we are, 4 years later and Caelen is thriving. Sure, his heart sucks and he needs a new one. But it's not today, and for right now, we live each and every day trying to make him happy. Caelen is surrounded by love and guardian angels. And while he may not exactly be on par with other healthy 5 year olds, he's doing amazing. For everything he's been through, Caelen shouldn't be here, especially without neurological defects, but he is, and he got to sit in a cockpit today, crawl in the belly of a 737 to move luggage, and push a plane 1/4 mile on a Tarmac, without me by his side. And he said thank you to every single person he encountered today without my prompting. So I think I'm pretty blessed to have such an amazing boy.
Caelen is proof that miracles happen and prayer works. And while I still don't know how much time we have with him, I'm happy with the time that we're spending.
Thank you to all that pray for Caelen, and thank you for praying him here to good health.
Love,
Katye & Caelen
