This Sorrells household had its first coronavirus scare over the weekend. It turned out to just be a scare: The test came back negative. To be honest, we were never terribly concerned that the virus had hit us, but it seemed like it wouldn’t be responsible to ignore the one warning, so we hunkered down for the weekend (regrettably, with Christina’s nephew, who instead of seeing Berlin got to spend a lot of time enjoying our plot of land) and watched movies and played games. All things considered, there are many worse outcomes.
But it keeps making me think about this stupid virus and all of the responses people are displaying to it. We’ve commented to one another more than once what we would be doing right now if Colin were still with us and on a breathing machine. I imagine we’d be one of those families dipping every new purchase in hand sanitizer before we brought it inside the house. I imagine we’d be on edge every moment of the day.
But I try not to think too much about that. I suppose the pandemic has made me, yet again, more aware of Emma and Noah’s health. It’s not that I’m overly worried about them, but, if nothing else, Colin’s tumor taught me that there are no guarantees in life. Just because I lost one child to cancer doesn’t mean the other two get the consolation prize of a risk-free life. The goal is to see them to adulthood. But who knows if the next truck, virus or case of botulism doesn’t have one of their names on it?
More specifically, I wonder sometimes what happens if one of them ends up in the hospital. We can explain to them what’s going on, a luxury we never really had with Colin. We could count on them submitting to some medical procedures that Colin never allowed. We could count on somewhat less drama. But there would be no drama-free life. They’re 10 and 12 and both acting like they’re about to be 16, so just about any topic is an invitation to a fight or a debate or a round of 20 questions. And, having seen a lot of this up close, they ask questions. They are shockingly open about cancer and other diseases. Death is not an unfamiliar topic to them.
So the goal is to keep them out of the hospital. And I wonder what it would be like for me if none of this had ever happened. If I had three healthy children, would this be nothing more than an annoyance to me? Did it require me watching a child spend nearly a year with breathing assistance to make me certain that this isn’t what I want for me, my children or, really, anyone? Christina has threatened more than once to show a picture of Colin on a ventilator to people on public transportation not wearing a mask, a kind of cautionary tale against treating all of this nonchalantly. She hasn’t done so, to my knowledge. But then you ask: Why would a person need to be told this? Isn’t it intuitively clear that losing your ability to breathe is a dead end? Do you have to go through what we did to get it?
I know the majority of people don’t need the situation to be so bad before they get it. But I do wonder what’s going on with the rest. Personally, I think if I was in the same room with a breathing machine, I’d have some kind of flashback. I just wish I could get a few other people to have a small dose of my healthy fear of these things. Honestly, if I could lose the images in my head of a pre-schooler struggling to breathe and foist them on someone who doesn’t see the problem, I’d do so in a heartbeat.
So so true! My dad was on a ventilator for over a week before he passed…I get it. As we go through life we realize what the Bible says about life being but a “vapor” is true.
A good Australian friend here in Kenya who was the medical director for the largest mission hospital in the world held more than one dying baby in her arms for lack of a 50-cent vaccination. It was too late by the time the child got to them. You can imagine her perspective on anti-vaxxers. Different, yet so similar mentalities.