I have rewritten this post many times. I don’t know how to write it. I don’t know what it is I want to say. I don’t usually use this blog to get things off of my chest because it’s too dangerous, too personal. It’s weird to think this way because I’ve been writing this blog for 4 years and a half now and people who read me probably believe that the nature of this blog is very personal. But when serious things happen, I often stay quiet or I talk about them after the fact, especially if it can affect other people. But I’m compelled to write about this now because it occupies every single space in my mind. And because writing about anything else seems trivial or contrived right now. I’ve decided to write the post in English because English is not « my » language and somehow I hope that it will allow me to get some perspective. Or distance. I’m not sure which one I’m hoping for.
My nephew Renaud is in the hospital. My beautiful, 10 year-old athletic sweetheart who makes the hearts of all the girls in 4th grade swoon when he walks by. He was playing with friends last week and fell on the grass, breaking his arm in the fall. He was taken to the emergency room in an ambulance and the doctors didn’t like what they saw on the x-rays. A pathological fracture, they called it, the kind of pre-diagnosis that scares you with a long, dizzying list of possibilities. Something had weakened his bone, which would explain why a small fall managed to split his humerus in two.
Tests were done which determined that more tests needed to be done. After a night in the hospital, he was sent home without a cast because the specialists he needed were not in until Monday. Today he went in at a big children’s hospital and the doctors decided to hospitalize him so that they can run more tests. An MRI. A biopsy. Scary words, too big for a little boy who can only think right now about all the soccer games he’s going to miss and the vacation his family had to cancel. His little brother is turning 8 on Wednesday and he’s sorry to put a damper on his party. At day camp where the accident happened, the kids and counselors bought him a stuffed toy dog. When I went to pick up his little brother at the camp, the counselors asked me to wait for them to finish the giant card they were making for Renaud. I watched quietly as cute girls wrote sweet notes on heart shaped paper and then glued painted macaroni noodles on the outline of the notes.
He was in a codeine daze when we handed him the giant card but it managed to put a tiny smile on his face. Let me tell you: that smile went straight to my heart and broke it in pieces, like dozens of silly painted macaroni noodles. Fuck. How do people do this? How do they watch children suffer without falling apart?
So we’re all waiting for the tests and then we’ll be waiting for the results. There is nothing to do but wait and waiting is the hardest thing to do. I wish I could pray but I feel like a fake, reverting in times of need to a god I haven’t believed in in years. It feels disrespectful to those who are true believers, to use their god when I need comfort and when I hope I can influence the outcome of a medical test.
Even as a child, what I thought of as faith was more like superstition. I would pray before going to bed because I was afraid that if I skipped a night it would be THE night when god would have happened to listen to my prayer. I didn’t want to take any chance and lose my turn so I prayed every night. I did that for many years and then I gradually stopped. Nothing was changing in my family and I was beginning to think that god didn’t have much to do with it.
What’s left in times of uncertainties if there’s no prayer or no faith attached to it? Sending good vibes? Meditating? Staying positive? Staying cool and rational because chances are good that this will only be a big scare and things will go back to normal?
I guess the only thing left when one doesn’t have faith is the love and support of family and friends and we have that. (I almost wrote « thank god ».) I read about the bombs falling over Lebanon and I know that every day parents around the world worry about their children’s lives, worry that they won’t even make it to the hospital. When my nephew comes out of the hospital, more parents will come in with their children, nervous and exhausted, knowing they’ll be on the receiving end of bad news. Praying obviously doesn’t put an end to that but does it comfort one’s heart? Does it calm a soul or numb it?
Sometimes if feels like faith is a gift, one that I’m sorry I don’t have.
Love and support work in the same way as faith, they will help him deal with the stress and, hopefully, boost his immune system.
If you need to talk about this and the doctors aren’t giving you enough time, you know where to find me.
Thanks Andr�. The doctors’ time has indeed been on the short side so far so when there’s a diagnosis, I’ll forget the photographer in you and remember the scientist.
Martine, ma soeur d’amour, tu as �crit ce que je ressens…sauf que moi, je prie quand m�me, je ne peux m’en emp�cher…Quoi qu’il arrive, ma vie ne sera plus jamais pareille.
oh. quelle tristesse!
La Foi, c’est aussi en avoir en la Vie. C’est aussi croire en la personne qui est malade et en sa force de combattre. Le petit Renaud, quoiqu’il arrive, aura certainement beaucoup d’�nergie pour combattre s’il en a besoin, car il est bien entour�… l’amour et le soutien donne des ailes � ceux qui savent puiser dans cette force.
Bon courage � toute la famille pour la suite des choses et plein d’ondes positives en ce qui � trait aux r�sultats de tous ces tests inhumains…
Croire en la vie et en la force de Renaud.
Merci Marie-Pascale
Les enfants poss�dent mieux que nous (adultes) le don de voir au travers des �tres humains et les entourer d’amour est rassurant, certes, mais dans ces moments de d�s�quilibre, ils ont surtout besoin de ne pas avoir � prendre soin des �motions des autres… Merci Martine de nous avoir partag� ce gouffre qu’est la maladie de ton neveu qui, nous le savons ici, fait partie de ces tr�sors qui t’entourent. Si tu pries, si tu rages ou si tu souffres en silence, ne laisse pas ce malheureux incident te faire perdre de vue l’immense force de caract�re que d�veloppent les jeunes dans de tels moments.
Il a avant tout besoin de sentir aupr�s de lui des adultes capables de s’assumer car, souvent, les jeunes retournent vers eux la peine qu’ils sentent chez les autres… ils ont tendance � croire que c’est de leur faute ce qui arrive!
S’accrocher un VRAI sourire, tout faire pour que la joie �merge de cette �preuve APR�S avoir d�vers� toute sa peine est NOTRE responsabilit� d’adulte Martine.
Et d’apr�s ce que je viens de lire, tu es sur le bon chemin pour que Renaud voie en toi la tante qui a pleur�, oui, tout son saoul peut-�tre, mais avant tout, celle qui va �tre debout pour le porter vers les prochaines �tapes de son combat pour retrouver la sant�.
Bon courage � toi qui sais bien t’entourer et trouver les mots pour nommer les multiples dimensions de nos fa�ons d’�tre. Prends soin de toi pour �tre en grande forme avec Renaud et fais-lui de grands calins pour nous…
Sorry for using french… I was not able to talk straigth enough using English ;-)
There IS something in the presence of friends and family who are sincerely dedicated to « helping » someone… a concentrated energy that a healing person can feel. It’s real. Even the doctors, et al, react to this when they encounter an alert, genuinely curious and supportive group of humans committed to making someone they love feel better…
This can be stronger than prayer, it seems to me, because it’s not so inward and abstract, and it can actually effect the physical situation, as a positive force. Even now you’re strengthening that force by active involvement, bringing us into the situation, being honest with yourself… just the act of you being present helps your nephew; who knows what role you might play in helping his recovery? and for yourself, with the strength you draw from your allies in this struggle, comes a sense of power that can at least counter the pervading powerlessness.
it’s all very existential in that the results aren’t always immediately palpable (which is where some modicum of « faith » slips in)… but i’ve seen it, felt it happen. simply the concentrated focus on being truly present for, and in the service of, another person… while having your emotions and
not denying their reality… all of this helps your nephew and it helps you. least it seems so to me.
Mario: On a jamais beson de s’excuser de s’exprimer en fran�ais sur ce blogue. ;-) C’est vrai ce que tu dis par rapport aux enfants qui ne doivent pas avoir � prendre en charge les �motions des autres. Le d�fi c’est de trouver l’�quilibre entre cacher compl�tement ses �motions et s’assurer qu’on ne les exprime pas trop non plus devant l’enfant.
Mernitman: Thanks for the encouraging words. I like your perspective on this and I hope you are right!
I just heard that the MRI will take place this afternoon. If the results are clear enough a biopsy might not be needed. There’s a long list of benin tumors that appear in children’s bones and his might be one of them (vs malignant). That’s what we’re all hoping for, of course.
Martine, I’m so sorry your family (especially Renaud) is going through this. Mernitman pretty much said what I was going to say (and he said it much better).
But I will say that I’ll hold you and your newphew close in my thoughts today as he has his MRI. I hope the MRI brings more answers than questions and that Renaud can soon get back to just being a kid.
Faith can be a wonderful gift, but it often comes with the ugly price of having to hold the belief that someone else’s child is going to hell, for lacking in that same faith. I’ve lived faithless my entire life and when I’ve worried for a sick or injured nephew I’ve found comfort in nature and animals, who (like children) go on living and thriving, regardless of injury, emotional strain and misfortune. Perhaps you could schedule an animal therapy visit for both you and Renaud? They’re very common these days and it sounds like you could both use one. :)
I do believe in the comforting power of animals, which is why I live with a crazy little black cat. ;-) We’re still hoping Renaud will not need any therapy at all and that he’ll get to go back home in a few days. He’s been wanting to have a dog though and I have a feeling that the whole adventure will give him some negotiating power with his parents…
Si �a peut te « rassurer », en effet, on ne se fait jamais � voir des enfants souffrir… Ni des adultes d’ailleurs… C’est horrible la maladie, mais c’est motivant d’essayer de la vaincre (des fois, on y arrive).
Courage pour Renaud, ce qui fragilise l’os a tout de m�me plus de chances d’�tre b�nin…
if you prayed. pray a thank you for the good news.
Hugo: Strangely, I usually spontaneously say thank you, even if I didn’t pray.
Martine, I’m so sorry I didn’t know about this when you were in the worst of it. I would have called….what a terrible thing to go through.
Faith doesn’t solve anything. All I am ever able to ask for, and reliably receive, is the strength to go on and, sometimes, to know what I need to do. And don’t ask me where it comes from! I think love is the same as faith, and it’s the one thing we have that helps.
i know that feeling (glad to hear in later posts that the news could be not-so-bad!) – for me it’s more about rituals. when someone dies or is in bad health, religion/faith offers rituals, and i find i am left with none. crossing myself, praying – i don’t believe in it and i don’t do it, but i miss a simple sign, gesture, ritual that i could do and that would bring me some peace.
child or adult – being helpless when faced with pain is just unbearable. having to be the rock, the smile, the strength… it’s hard but it’s necessary. and after the hurdles and the pain and the grief, well, there’s love. it may not conquer all (damn! it should!) but it’s strong enough to make us hold on, isn’t it?
lots of good thoughts to Renaud and his loving family. i’m going to wish for more posts reporting new silly antics from your adorable nephews, Martine. and hope that they can both go back to being carefree little boys (who do stupid things and therefore prove to the world that they live life at the fullest!).