The Worst Days
I have known Brandon for virtually all of his life. I was introduced to his sister, Soraya and him when they were very young, about three and one and a half years respectively. They did not trust me for the first ten minutes, from that time on, the three of us have been best buds.Unfortunately, it seems that I have been present for Brandon's two worst times in his eight-year life. The first was when he was only about two-years-old. He had a nasty cold and the doctor wanted to run blood tests to ensure that it was nothing more. As I placed my forearm across his chest to hold him down, Brandon looked into my eyes pleading why was I allowing this? I needed to stay strong, but as he wailed in terror, our eyes continued to meet. His filled with fright, mine with sadness. There was nothing I could do, other than try to let him know it would be all right.
The second time happened yesterday. Surgery, albeit it was only oral surgery, is scary. And although it was an outpatient procedure, there were the people in masks, the I.V., the cold, sterile environment, yep, it was the real thing. Now imagine you are only eight-years-old, with the knowledge of an eight-year-old. Terrifying.Brandon was trying so hard to be brave. As he sat back on the dental chair, the laughing gas mask upon his nose, they began to place the monitors on various parts of his body. As his voice quivered, he asked me, "Will I remember you when I wake up?" Wow, that's deep. I understood if he was concerned if the procedure would hurt, but to worry that Brandon would not be able to remember me when he awoke?...wow...deep...
Finally Brandon fell asleep. I waited outside the office the minutes slowly creeping by. I noticed a sign upon the office window; one that warned that on occasion there were surgical emergencies that would delay later appointments. I said a silent prayer that Brandon would not be one of those emergencies.
Finally the dental assistant poked her head out the office door with a gentle smile, "You can come in now..." Brandon sat with disheveled hair and a drunken-eyes-at-half-mast expression, a bloody piece of gauze protruding from his mouth. Definitely not the usual hyper, "boy of a million questions" version, but overall, fine. Whew...Yes, I have been with Brandon for the two worst days of his life. We stared deep into each other's eyes as his welled with fright and confusion. At those places, at those moments, I must confess, there was nowhere I would have rather have been.
posted by LoneCactus @ 6:39 AM
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