Tuesday, October 21, 2014

My son Ryan

This is not a story or a dream or a hallucination, nor is it necessarily about blastomycosis. It is, however, about my very precious son, Ryan Jeffery Moore (which is normally how he tells you his name:)  I should say this isn't about a dream because he is a dream come true. I'm not trying to compare him to others or say I love him more or this and that. He is just so very special to me, my wife, our baby child, the rest of my family and about everyone else that knows him.
     I believe I mentioned before he was born on April 12 and weighed 4lb, 12 oz, so 4-12, 4-12. He was such a cute little thing and as for me personally not to have been around babies much, looked as if he should be carried around in my hoodie sweatshirts' pocket. He had a small birthmark on his wrist and a little bit bigger one on his elbow and foot/ankle. These turned out to be a little bit more than a birthmark. We asked Doctors and then specialists and it basically came down to being some extra cartilage buildup attached to his bone. They said it is not hurting him or his movement at his young age but to be aware of it. 
     That fall I got in a car accident. Ryan was 5 months old, and I had just dropped him off at my parents and decided to take the back way to work at Ready Randy's. Coming up the final hill before the stop sign I suddenly see someone passing another car. The speed limit was I believe 45 and I immediately hit my brakes and tried to hit the ditch but it was too late. The collision knocked me in the back seat directly on top of the empty baby seat. Thank God. I tumbled out of the car and tried knocking the cobwebs out and shortly tried to stand, and I fell. Great. Ambulance ride, head all scarred up, neck hurt and legs, particularly my left one hurt like hell. Well my ankle was broke, had another small crack in my tibia and I had a small fracture in my neck with whiplash. Passed all my head scans and was released. Had to go back once the swelling went down to get two permanent pins put in my ankle and wrapped and braced up. They had to put me under and also give me that shot in the back that birthing women get, I forget the name, and when I woke up I couldn't feel some 'manly' parts for several hours :-0
     For the next few months I took care of Ryan but the bedrooms were upstairs. I had to go up and down on my ass holding him. Stupid? Probably, since one time I was by myself and fell and put a hole in the wall with my head. These were not the memories with a baby that I had foreseen!
    That Spring his mom and I split up. I decided to move out and get an apartment. I was back working by now, mainly to full strength and with my busy schedule the times having him were difficult. By the time Ryan was 1, Sarah was now in my life and I had trusted her to see him and even more take care of him. Over the next several years she has taken as much care as I have for this guy. A little while after that we decided to get his foot looked at again. The growth in his foot had gotten worse and looked sore, looked like a bad pimple but it was tough and tender to the touch and made it difficult to wear shoes. The orthopedist decided to cut this out of his foot. When he went in for surgery they saw that it was all tangled up around the bone and ligaments and had hoped they got it all out. After surgery they put a cast on him. Poor little guy gets some tissue cut out and gets a hard cast from toe to high ankle, I get two pins and get a brace with a sock. I sure didn't think that was fair to him. But, like always, he had a great attitude. I swear the next day he was 'running' around. Nobody wanted to laugh at him but it was so cute, he would skip-hop-run-bounce fast around the house it didn't seem to bother him. When the cast came off, his foot had gotten infected. This sucked and he again was a trooper about it all. Even after he got all healed up it took him awhile to run normal again, with out that hop in mid-run. 
     First grade comes around and he's heading into the Spring and I get sick. I am not sure he quite understand's the entire process and how close he was to losing me, but he tells me often how strong I am. I know at some point in my coma that I knew I had to get better, necessarily not spiritually or hearing words of loved ones or the medical staff or even God, maybe a combination of them all but I really felt like I couldn't not be there for my family. Wasn't my time to go. Still Ryan had to have gone through a lot. He came to see me once at Westfields and once when I was unconscious, but that was it for about two months. Two months minimum in between people seeing me was the minimum, even family and Sarah who came every day up to when Scarlett was born I wasn't myself, I was knocked out, put out, in pain, sleeping, dying, recovering, tubes in every body part, just flat out not looking like myself for several months. 
     His attitude would remain at a high level and his teacher conferences were (mostly;) great. With all these things I wrote about and some personal things I didn't mention that he has dealt with as well I am so proud of him every day and want to thank him so very much and wouldn't go a second without saying I love him. Well I think you catch my drift :)
      One day when he is allowed to meet girls at 35 and gets married I think I will read him this story, and put everyone to sleep like his (grand)papa does! Love you too Dad :)


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