A Yuletide Tragedy
 

You've all known a kid like this one. Unruly, disruptive, ADHD, loud. He's the five year old you see walk in the door with his mother and you wince. The boy whose name is almost always shouted out, closely followed by the words "stop it!". Sure, he's a handsome lad, with a winning smile and the cutest manner of childish intelligent speech you've ever seen, but still and all, you wish he were somewhere else most of the time.

I know that's often how I felt about Conner. The few times our family watched him for his mother, our good friend, he left us worn out and bedraggled. If we were fortunate, nothing would have been broken before he left. The boy is nothing if not energetic; he is anything but obedient. Before yesterday, the word quiet was never used to describe him.

Today, he lay silently in the PICU at Children's Mercy Hospital as I held the hand of his sobbing mother while the ICU nurse suctioned out his lungs with a tube shoved down his nasal passages. I watched him snake it down his throat, and heard the hollow sucking rasping sound coming out of Conner's mouth. Conner's small body twitched and jerked with disturbing frequency as it lay on the bed, surrounded by an array of life support equipment resembling the sick bay of the Enterprise. It was involuntary movement...the repeated insertions of the suction tube elicited no choking, no coughing...nothing. I held his cold, cold little foot, and tried to will him to consciousness, tried to reach into him with my mind, to tell him it was alright, that he shouldn't be scared, that people were with him, that his mama was going to be right there.

There was no Conner there. There was only a small, outwardly undamaged shell of a little boy who yesterday fell through the thin ice of a small pond, and was trapped beneath it for an unknown duration. That his body continues to function is only due to the heroic efforts of the man and his friend at whose house Connor had been left while his mother went to her second day at a new, badly needed job. Jerry and Badger beat their way through the ice with their fists, their knees, their feet, smashing away at it until they were able to dive in and pull his lifeless form from the pond. They administered CPR and mouth to mouth until the EMTs arrived and took him to the nearest trauma center. Then, they stood by while the police interviewed them and considered whether or not someone should be arrested for neglectful homicide.

Those men now suffer horrific, undeserved, self-imposed guilt, constantly questioning how they could have prevented it, what they could have done better, sooner. Jerry's own two year old was the one who alerted them that "Conner is under the water". The children had wandered off together from an outdoor gathering of friends, somehow escaping the confines of a six foot chain link fence that not even the family dog could circumvent. It was that same two year old who, upon seeing the men working to revive him, looked at his approaching, terrified mother and said, "Conner's dead..."

Indeed, a whole family, a whole community of which I am a part is now looking inward, and wondering why. When I left, the ICU waiting room at CMH was filled to overflowing with Pagan clergy, friends and family, all trying to support the mother and share the burden of impending loss that the doctors assure us has already occurred.

Sometime, probably in the next day or so, a mother in Kansas City is going to have to make some terrible, terrible choices, as doctors pronounce Conner brain dead and incapable of surviving without life support. That mother is my friend. I am kin in spirit with her because of my own son's time spent in that same hospital some thirteen years ago. I know what she is going through, and I know that I was favored with a miracle in that my own son, while handicapped, is still with us.

How I wish I could conjure that same miracle for Conner. How I wish I could tell him to go ahead and run, jump, scream...break something.

Very sorry to hear about your loss.

My thoughts and prayers are with the family, Ep.

Els, I am very sorry for the experiences of your friends, and of yourself.

Again, you have eloquently given voice to tragedy.

May there be healing in whatever course this little one's life takes.

There is no good way to approach this, but if the little one does not recover, I hope that his mother gives consideration to the choice of offering life to others in need.

I'm so sorry, Els. I hope the two men who did their best to rescue him are able to move beyond their guilt someday.

We had a child like that at our two kid's birthday party yesterday. I was so impressed at how patient his mother was and I could see how much she loved him. I remember thinking how unfair life is. And then I read your story this morning. I feel very badly for your friend - why some people have to suffer through things like this is something I will never understand.

I am so sorry Elspode, for you and your friends. You described in almost perfect detail, including the name, a schoolmate of Spencer's... I don't even want to think about it... its just so hard to keep some of those little buggers safe.
I'm wishing for your miracle too.

Word has just come to me that a CAT scan has been performed, and the worst has been pretty much confirmed. My wife is on the way to the hospital to support the mother, as she is likely to be called upon to make the most terrible choice a parent can make. The mother stated yesterday that she wanted as many family, friends and community clergy as possible to be present when Conner passes.

I won't stop hoping for a miracle until Conner has left us, but right now, it looks as though his path is going in a direction where none of us can follow.

So sorry to hear the bad news.

And the strength to endure things I cannot change. :bawling:

I arrived at the hospital at around 4:30 this afternoon. At about 4:45, the doctors called in the mother, my wife and another friend (as clergy), and the mother's housemate. They reported that CAT and MRI scans confirm no function in the midbrain. They have advised discontinuation of life support as soon as possible in order to make the child's passing as easy as possible.

Since it is likely that Connor will continue to breathe for some time after the ventilator is removed, this is not going to be like simply turning off a switch. "Unplugging" someone is not the clean, neat process that we all would wish for it to be. Instead, the patient's body systems take time to fail, and the process of physical death can take hours, even days.

The mother has asked for numerous family, community members and clergy to be present when Connor's support is discontinued. There will be nearly twenty people in the ICU, and a ritual will be conducted. There will probably be nearly twenty more in the waiting room, as a vigil begins to ensure that someone is with both Connor and his mother at the critical moment.

Such a woeful event. I can only say that we are truly blessed to have such a closely knit community.

I keep forgetting to add (and I'm sure that at some point you people are going to think that I'm making all this up, but it is all too sadly true) that my wife's maternal Aunt Judy passed over on Saturday night, and so we will be driving down to South Central Missouri on Thursday morning for a funeral service, then turning around and driving back up to Belton (the town on the immediate Southern border of Grandview, where I live) for internment. I am to be a pallbearer.

While my wife talked from the waiting room to her mother, making our plans for the Thursday event, her mother informed her that her 90 year old paternal Aunt Cora was displaying severe symptoms of congestive heart failure, and might be on her last legs as well. She, too, lives down at the lake near the rest of my wife's core of family.

It is not beyond the realm of possibility that we will be attending, participating in or otherwise facilitating three funerals within a week's time, all during the holidays.

You can't make this stuff up, people. You'd be a sick fuck if you did.

I am not a superstitious man, but I have to say, Els, that I would never, ever stand next to you in a thunderstorm.

On the other hand, you are seriously due for some better days.

Peace be with you.

I don't know that my lot is any worse than anyone else's. I just have to write about it to keep from going insane, and you Cellarites are the unfortunate audience for these outbursts.

I'm not really a depressing person. It is just that I have discovered that the only way to vent and assuage my internal grief is to externalize it in writing.

Just the same, I would keep my distance during inclement weather if I were you. :p

Elspode, although I don't 'know' you, I feel like I do thru your absolutely eloquent and powerful posts. I want you to know that I often find myself thinking about you and your family when I am at home (cellar is at work) and hope for your continued strength in such unfortunate and trying times. While going through one of the worst trials of my life, talking about my feelings was probably what kept me out of the nuthouse. Feel free to post away, and know that many more are wishing you well than you may know of.

I appreciate that, LR, and I would only ask that anyone who has good thoughts and energies to send please direct them to Connor and his mother, Pamela in Children's Mercy Hospital in KC.

I just got off the phone with my wife, who spent the night with the mother at the hospital, and things are just so very, very awful. Connor still retains brain stem function, and as such is displaying basal functions...grasping of people's hands (sporadic, and not in response to stimuli), suckling behavior, and non-spastic movement of the extremities. He has no pupillary reactivity to light, no response to pain stimuli, and no response to verbal prompts. The upshot of all of this is that it is making it *much* more difficult for everyone to be with him, as his physical activity has the outward appearance of "normal" functionality. In addition, as his body continues to slowly fail, he has begun experiencing atrial fibrillation, and is now running an elevated temperature, making him appear diaphoretic and uncomfortable.

My wife is now completely physically and emotionally exhausted, and needs to get out of there, but she has a long day ahead of her as she is determined to be present when life support is d/c'ed. It would be merciful for everyone involved if that action brought a swift and calm transition from this plane to the next, but in all likelihood, it is going to be a violent, horrible thing to experience. The human body struggles to survive, and doctors and friends are now trying to brace Pamela for the sights and sounds of what is to come.

This is so horrifically sad and painful, and I don't know whether to feel bad or blessed that I am unable to be present.

Wow. I can't imagine how horrible this must be for you all. I'd run into a couple "rough spots" in my little world lately, and knowing that I won't be able to see my family for Christmas was making it all the worse. Compared to what Conner's mother is going through right know, my life is pretty rosy. I can't imagine survivng what she is having to go through. Conner and his extended, loving family will be in my prayers. I'm so sorry.

My thoughts are definitely with Connor's family, El.

I have a question, though, and I hope this won't bother anyone -- has organ donation been considered by his family? Wouldn't that be a fitting legacy for such a wonderfully energetic little boy? Oddly enough, it may also make his passing faster and more peaceful.

I hope I'm not out of line here. Again, my heartfelt condolences to his family and the entire community.

- Pie

I have been following this thread and simply do not know what to say. I have no maternal instincts whatever, but feel very strongly that the worst tragedy anyone can suffer is for a mother to lose her child. My thoughts are with the family, and with you and your wife, Elspode, at this awful time.

My thoughts and prayers go out to you and the boy and his family as well. How terribly sad it must be. My grandmother died 2 years ago tomorrow, and while the scope of the tragedy is much greater in your case, I can empathize with the feeling of loss at what's supposed to be a happy time of year. Peace and love.

I've been sending as much positive energy as I can spare, if not to help little Connor, then to try to help his mother and the rest of the extended family who wait for his passing.

There is very little anyone can say to help at such a tragic time, sometimes only a gesture of love and support will do. In that spirit, I'm sending a depply felt hug and shoulder to all those in need out your way.

Connor crossed into the Summerlands just before 5:00 PM CST this evening. He was surrounded by his mother, grandmother, family, clergy and numerous members of both his mother's Pagan community and his grandmother's Christian community.

I have learned so much these past few days. So much about strength, love, the importance of both the individual and the group. I know beyond knowing that, when my own time comes, there will be comfort, support and love for my family and friends. I have witnessed tragedy beyond comprehension or understanding.

I cannot make something poetic or majestic out of this woeful occurance. Yet, even in this absence of my ability to express, there is a revelation. As I stood at the side of Connor's bed and watched his lifeless form being held by his mother, I truly, and for the first time, felt the depth of the sorrow and pain that is expressed in Michaelangelo's "Pieta". The timeless image of Mary holding her dead son was mirrored precisely as Pamela held Connor. The image was so powerful that the shock of it nearly took my breath, and I am still trying to process it in my mind. I cannot conceive of a piece of art that could more powerfully, definitively capture Life at its most fundamental, its most personal. Love, agony, despair, pity, disbelief, grief, denial...I can't go on. It is all too real.

Splode , dude I can't tell you how sorry i am for you haveing to whitness such events . :(
My mother died of pancreatic cancer on 12/26/96 . That was with out a doubt the most fucked up , worst thing i have ever had to deal with in my life .
I sat down and typed out the whole story of her life as i knew it , good and bad , crying the whole time , it made me feel better , well some better .
NO i don't have a copy. I printed it out , said my good bys and burned it ,and deleted the file . It was no where as elaquent as you, but it made me feel a little better .

Know this though , Conner , or Conners spirit knew you ALL were there , and I am sure it helped him get past the scary parts knowing that he had every bodys support !!!!!

I was a witness by choice, Zip. I am a firm believer in the concept of "Pay It Forward", and so my wife and I serve our community and our friends. It is what defines us more often than not. I didn't *have* to be there...I couldn't be anywhere else in such a circumstance.

Pamela is a dear friend, and it was for her that I was in attendance. We have provided childcare for Connor several times in the past...it could have been us in the position of Jerry, Badger and Deb. It was only a couple of years ago that I helped Pamela and Connor move from her mother's house, and then a year later, pondered moving them into our home. Pamela always makes it a point to parade her newest boyfriend past my wife and I, hoping for the parental approval that her own mother was rather poor at providing. We were a part of the large circle of Pamela and Connor's lives.

There is strength in numbers, and love in community. We each support and share energies with the other, a large circle of energetic ebb and flow. When one wanes, the other gives a little more, and takes some back later as it is needed. It was a privilege, an honor, to be part of this. I am blessed with friends and associates of incredibly high quality and strength, and I have never before seen such a display of sheer selfless humanity, let alone to have been fortunate enough to have a place in it all. It is all quite humbling, actually.

My wife has gone to bed now, exhausted after 36 hours straight with Pamela. I arrived only at the very last moments, and her description of the physical components of Connor's final hours is chilling and disturbing. Yet, she was there for it all, giving and facilitating and grounding those around her. She is a very, very strong woman.

I'm not at all certain how the hospital staff took it all, but I'm pretty sure it will be awhile before they see the equal of the outpouring that occurred. As we drove out of the parking garage, I couldn't help but notice the remarkable number of Pagan bumper stickers, and I smiled a bit with pride.

I'm very sorry you didn't save your writings about your mother, Zippy. I would have been honored to read them.

I'm very sorry you didn't save your writings about your mother, Zippy. I would have been honored to read them.

This is the closest i can get . I read these profound word as i spread some of my moms ashes in a verry verry special and beautiful place , surrounded by some of her closest and most special friends .

Zippy my man...you would make a *fine* Pagan! :D

How about Episca-Pagan ??

What you don't know, zip, is that episcapagan (or high episcapagan) is a term used in the pagan community to describe people who are overly dedicated to elaborate, well-scripted ritual work, usually involving a lot of costuming, ritual equipment, incenses with long and often secret recipes, and numerous people to take the parts of the various ritual players.

I know you mean it differently, but the term itself made me laugh heartily.

My own contribution to Connor's passage, would be to offer this to his mother. It is often thought to be (or passed off as) a traditional Native American Blessing.

It isn't. It was written in 1932 by a poet named Mary Frye.

It is beautiful, no matter what it's origin.

I have used it when officiating at funerals.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousands winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

I don't think so, not at all. :thumbsup:

Thanks for sharing that Els. We need to remember that for lots of folks the holidays will never be what the could be and we need to cut folks some slack when they don't display any Christmas "spirit". I received a nice greeting from an old aquaintance who was concerned for our first Christmas without Mom. It's those little gestures that make us human. Your gift for expressing humanity is marvelous.

My mother died two days after her 56th birthday, in May of 1992. It was only when Christmas came that year, and I was placing an old family ornament on the tree, that the full import of her absence struck me. It was the first Christmas I'd ever had without my mom, and the whole concept was a bit overwhelming.

We mark our lives by such events. It is a measure of each turn of The Wheel, as reckoned by the ancients, and we humans attach significance to these dates in order to have some grasp of the flow of Time and our place in it. Family gatherings become touchstones, points in our memories, something to grasp and cling to as the inexorable river of time flows past and around us.

Wolf, that is truly a great piece. Every time I hear it, it gives me comfort with its great truth.

Pie, I apologize...I've sort of overlooked your question, and I meant to answer it.

The issue of organ donation was never raised by the hospital staff. I can only assume that the extensive period of oxygen deprivation that Connor suffered made the possibility of harvesting his organs untenable.

My wife was with Pamela during every consultation that the doctors and staff had with her regarding Connor's condition and disconnection from support. The topic was simply not broached. The only explanation that I can conceive is that they knew that the organs weren't going to be viable, and so they were sensitive enough to simply leave the topic out of things.

Connor survived less than two hours after support was removed, and so I believe that his organs were indeed very, very compromised.

I am certain that Pamela would have consented had it been a possibility.