Thursday, September 26, 2013


Daniel fell at school yesterday. He's fallen and been injured twice before. Once with his father while at the mall. That was a bad one with chipped, damaged and lost teeth. The incident was a culmination of some poor planning and unfortunate timing. One moment they were having fun, and the next he was flat on his face.

The second time was last year when my mom was dying and I was at her bedside in St. Louis. We're not even sure what the hell happened during that one, but apparently his caregiver dropped him in the bathroom and he lost his other (repaired after the first fall) front tooth. That event really made me angry. Partially because it was totally preventable according to the reports I later got, and mostly because I was 950 miles away and unable to do a damn thing about it. In one room my mom was on life support, and in another two plane rides away my boy was bleeding.

I remember getting the news while I was drinking coffee in the neuro ICU waiting room. I left, got on an elevator and railed at no one in particular. I cried and howled and when the elevator doors opened and a woman entered she asked me if I wanted her to call someone. If there was someone to call, I might have taken her up on it. In that moment I was exorcising my pain and helplessness, and there's no 911 for that.

Yesterday he was in the bathroom, standing as he always does, holding his teacher's hand to walk to his wheelchair. It happened fast. He slid. His back  hit the plastic on the toilet and down he went. There are several large scrapes across his spine.

His teacher called me and told me about the sequence of events and expressed how sorry she is. She's a great lady. Taught for several years and knows her kids and her job. She told me she cried when he fell, and he put his hand on her head to comfort her. It was an accident. It was a fluke.I reassured her that this stuff happens. I should know, I work in an elementary school clinic for a living. I'm the one with the ice and bandages. I understand that kids fall on playgrounds, they run and bump their heads on things because they're not looking, and it is a natural part of childhood to get cut and bruised.

Yes, I know that accidents happen. This one, once again, just reminds me of how vulnerable my son is because of his disability. I can be grateful that he wasn't part of a high school fight or car wreck after boozing, but I'm also sad that at almost 15 he is injured doing what most of us take for granted. Going to the toilet.

The real focus shouldn't be on me and my emotions. I accept that Daniel's limitations make this a real part of his/our lives. I got on with things and brainstormed about how to prevent it from happening again. His teacher and I discussed it. Should two people be in the bathroom with him? No, it's too small and he doesn't usually need that level of assistance. Should she stand in front of him instead of at his side? Maybe. We'll figure it out when he goes back to school tomorrow. Her genuine sorrow at his pain was reassuring to me. She wasn't being careless, and she cared in the aftermath very much.

Our kids who can't speak or walk without help are the most vulnerable on the planet. Last night I asked Daniel what happened, and how he felt. He tried answering. He was shaking his head no at some of my questions, but sometimes the no shake means yes. I brought out the big, lit YES NO buttons, and he threw them. I wanted so badly at that moment to be able to either read his mind, or  help him with facilitated communication on a keyboard. I could do neither. I think that all of my interrogating frustrated him and if he could have he'd have told me to leave him the hell alone. Well, I really shouldn't put words in his mouth, but the tossing of the YES NO buttons seemed a real attempt at that.

Daniel lives with his vulnerability. He seems to trust the world. He laughed and touched her face when his teacher cried. He smiled at me when I learned of his injury and came to him with a panicked expression and tone. He threw those buttons like a major league pitcher. Does he know some secret to the universe? Or does he just know how not to make a mountain out of a molehill?

I don't have the answers. I can only pray that in his vulnerability he is protected by people who care. I can ask that light and love surround him wherever he goes, and that the inept are kept far, far away from him. And I do.