Hi, everyone. I wasn’t expecting this.
My son Jacob landed in hospital Wednesday after taking a fall at work. He’s an HVAC tech in Des Moines and I’ve been pretty much in and out of his hospital room ever since then. He’s basically has a brain injury and is in ICU. Right now he’s stable and sedated but of course me, my wife, his sister, his girlfriend, and all his friends and family are out of sorts and hoping for the best.
All I can pretty much say is it sucks not knowing how long it will be and what it will take to get him back to things, but I’m hoping it will be soon. I’m grateful for all of the family and friends who have already reached out with their prayers, wishes, and offers of help. They mean so much to me.
Basically, writing to me helps me keep sane. So it is these past few days, and I’m grateful for it. This ended coming out of it yesterday.
Patients, Patience, and Not Wanting Any of It
29 February 2024, Des Moines
I gaze at you
In the bed
Covered in plastic tentacles
And your legs are pumping
Trying to run off
You rise trying to demand answers
But the tube that’s doing
The breathing
Is keeping you silent
More than I ever could
At the dinner table as a boy.
Whether you are running
To a playground in your memories
Or you want to finish today’s work
Even though quitting time has passed.
You and hospitals are acquaintances
Reuniting at extended family gatherings
Familiar yet unfamiliar.
The minute I met you in a hospital
For the first time
Being hustled down the hall by
Sea-green clad Guardians
I feared you’d never leave
And yet you did.
And then I dreaded a return trip.
But of course there were other
Homecomings
Other waits
And other departures.
I always feared
Other medical reunions
And I want to cradle you like I used to
But I can’t get my arms around you now
Because you’ve grown and
On account of the plastic tentacles.
The conversation, high and clear,
In my ears
Is “These injuries take time and
Patience.”
I have to chuckle inside
For patience is a rare commodity for
You.
You are your mother’s son, after all.
But you are also as much
A stubborn fighter
As your mother.
And that’s what will bring you home.
uno. that brings back memories. is it still fun with a grown-up son? we played uno and concentration and gin, mostly. his sisters loved candyland.that challenged my endurance and patience. what an idiotic game.
jason, a grown-up son is a treasure. there were days on end i feared my own would never make it out of one scrape or another.
i know the achy watching of a sleeping man-boy and wishing for longer arms and a stronger back to cradle him while he sleeps off his recovery, tentacles coming out of him. i love the way you put that.
i'm sending much mom energy and love to you both, in hope of a good outcome.
their brains are such fragile things, locked up inside those hard heads. xo, alison