Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

The Story of Diney

Wednesday, July 8th, 2009

I love the boy, but there’s a reason that I refer to Rachel as the creative one.  And that reason would be the same reason that Keenan has a white sheet he’s been holding onto since he was three that he named sheety and, most importantly, why he has a dinosaur named…you guessed it…diney.

Diney, now being nearly twelve years old, doesn’t look like much, but he has a history, a really important history.  When we first moved in with S, I had to explain it…share the story.  Keenan, naturally, came down with a freakishly high fever that lasted for about three days and since we were in between houses, the first thing he wanted to be sure was moved was Diney.

See, when Keenan was first born, he spent six weeks in the hospital, four in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) and two on the pediatric floor.  He was early, and small, but worse, with no immune system to speak of, he managed to contract a serious illness.  By the time I arrived for my daily visit, he had stopped breathing numerous times already.  The doctor pulled me aside and told me that they didn’t know what was wrong, they were running tests, and they weren’t sure if he would make it.

I had already lost one child, a daughter, stillborn at 27 weeks.  Part of me wanted to give up, cry, rage at the injustice of it.  The stronger part of me, the better part, refused to accept the possibility of him dying and decided to fight.  Really, I had been afraid the entire time that he might not make it, suddenly I was fully committed, all in.  The first thing I did was decorate his space.

The gift shop has a wide array of stuffed animals.  All of them dwarfed a two pound baby, all but a magenta colored t-rex that stood maybe six inches tall.  That, I purchased and placed in front of his incubator where I imagined he might see it once he was able to lift his head.  Keenan was fussing, a red writhing, wrinkled mass of skin and bones.  I leaned close and whispered, “It’s okay, Keenan.   Mommy is here.”  He lifted his head, opened his eyes and quieted down as though he knew I would make everything okay.

The blood cultures came back, identifying the cause of his ailment, a yeast infection in his blood stream.  He was being treated and slowly improving.  Soon enough he was able to go home, but had to return often for various treatments.  Premies have many medical issues.  By the time he was a year old he had survived double inguinal hernia surgery, three surgeries for Retinopathy of Prematurity (ROP) that untreated would have left him blind, numerous exams under anesthesia, and monthly six hour long intravenous treatments intended to strengthen his immune system.  Diney was by his side for every moment of it.

At three, he had to have his tonsils and adnoids removed.  I offered to give up his appendix then, thinking he’d finally be about out of spare parts and we could avoid future operations, but the doctors refused.  (And totally didn’t get my humor, by the way.)  Sure enough, Diney was there for that, too.

So it was no wonder that when he was in elementary school and they asked the kids to bring in items the last week of school to share for show and tell, he wanted to bring Diney.  This magical little dinosaur slept with Keenan every night, so while I was reluctant for it to leave the house, I was honored that it meant enough to be shared with his classmates.  Thus, Diney went to school on Tuesday.

Tuesday night, the panic set in.  Keenan couldn’t find Diney anywhere.  Eventually, he remembered that he had taken Diney out of his bag on the bus ride home and quite possibly left the little guy to fend for himself.  We tried to reassure him that we’d talk to the bus driver and Diney would be returned, but we were under the gun, school was very nearly over and our window of opportunity rapidly closing. 

The next afternoon, his father waited to speak to the bus driver, who assured us that the dinosaur was not on the bus when she cleaned it the previous afternoon, but that she would speak with the middle school kids who rode the bus after the elementary kids and see if anyone saw it, since it was such a special dinosaur.  Well, another nearly sleepless night passed.  And on Thursday Keenan once again returned without the dinosaur.  We had about given up hope.

Friday afternoon, Keenan descended the bus steps, triumphant.  Apparently, the bus driver made good on her word, speaking to the middle school kids, trying to relay the importance of this simple looking stuffed animal.  Finally, one of the kids cracked and admitted that another one of the kids had thrown it out the window during the ride.  So, on Thursday, the bus driver made the middle school kids ride with their heads out the window while she drove really slowly.  (I’m sure that made the afternoon commute in Charlotte, NC very pleasant for so many people.)  And amazingly enough, after three days on the road, Diney was found. 

With tears in my eyes, I wrote a letter to the CMS bus garage, letting them know what a special person they had driving for them.  Let’s face it, she went above and beyond for a little boy.  And that is something that deserves recognition and praise.

Yeah.  I believe in miracles.  I believe they come in all shapes and sizes, from the recovery of a sick baby to the recovery of a special toy.  And I believe that most people are really good and really care.

Tags: illness, Parenting
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