It’s been more than 11 years since Jude finished treatment for brain cancer recurrence, but his medical scares keep demanding to be part of his future instead of staying firmly in his past. Just over a year ago, Jude had a seizure that reminded me all too much of his early day seizures that were life-threatening (where he would stop breathing). I drove him to the ER, not knowing that he was already out of the seizure. As we got closer to the ER, he was apologizing to me in advance for how much the ER visit was going to cost. Since he hadn’t had a seizure for more than 10 years, his neurologist didn’t think he needed to be on anti-seizure meds so we happily avoided them. He did have to take a long break from driving, but he still managed to get his driver’s license just days after he turned 16.
It’s been so great having him drive himself to school, soccer practice and his soccer referee gigs. But, that’s all going to have to change.
This morning at 7:45 a.m., I knocked on Jude’s door to wake him up for school. He quickly got himself dressed sharply in a polo and dress pants, brushed his teeth and came down the stairs like nothing was wrong. For some reason that I can’t remember, I followed him into the mud room. I saw him with his purple leather jacket on top of his polo and dress pants, but saw him barefoot. I asked him how he was doing and he said, “Um…um.” I responded, “That’s not a ringing endorsement.” Then a second later, I was reminded how he could only say, “Mommy um…Mommy um” during the seizure that lead to his first brain cancer diagnosis. I took a closer look at him and saw his eyes were as wide as saucers and his hands were frozen in an unusual position. I brought him to the same couch I brought him to during his seizure a year ago. His eyes were now shut and it looked like his eyeballs were running a marathon under his lids. He didn’t speak for a couple minutes. Everyone else in the house was still sleeping, but I finally got the attention of Levi, who awakened Andy. Soon most of the family paraded down the stairs and gathered around Jude, sharing concerned looks. Jude soon started speaking total nonsense. He had a massive headache and was cold, trembling and tired.
After he got a nap (that I probably interrupted way too many times to check on him), he was understandably a bit frustrated, as he knows now that he’ll be put on anti-seizure meds and will have to be carted around town by his doting, protective mother. He doesn’t want to be that boy who has seizures. He wants to be that tough guy who conquered cancer and is more resilient than most because of it. The poor thing kept apologizing to me for all the worry he is going to cause me. And then he apologized for not stopping the seizure, saying, “I felt it coming on and I think I could have stopped it if I had tried harder.”