Macklynn, Meant for More?

     I've documented this week of appointments, confusion, parties, practices and games, sudden fevers, friendly conversations, all on Facebook.  Tonight I'm just plain exhausted.  After writing about the first 3 birthdays of the week, I shouldn't leave Macklynn's unmentioned.  He's 6 today and the events surrounding his birth were as unusual as any.                                                                                                                   
     My pregnancy with this sixth child was most healthy.  I like to think I was in my prime and spent the summer swimming, and in the end, only gaining 6 pounds.   I helped out as much as anyone while midterm; one day we cut and did 3 F-250 Longbed loads of wood.  What I didn't realize is that my Jobst stockings had pinched behind my knee and quickly caused a huge clot to form in my inner thigh.   It was extra painful; all thrombophlebitis is, a unique burning sensation.  However, it normally isn't dangerous UNTIL it grows so large that it reaches the groin connecting to the deep vein.  The entire vein was solid for a good 7 inches.  That's when I got to meet with my first specialist.  He put it this way:  that he knew I had several other children and if I didn't want to be hospitalized, I would get 2 shots of blood thinners in my sides every day.  Back then, I was only afraid of 3 things and that was one of them.  Thinking I obviously had to deal with it, it was a go but then, I found out "I" would be the administrator.  Needless to say, the fear of needles is conquered now. 
     Not used to being medicated for anything, much less with child, I was concerned for the baby until delivery, an induction of course (to insure the body has processed all thinners out).  God blessed us with a big 10 lb 3 oz boy who looked more like a man than a baby.  If he had lasted another week as he otherwise would've, he might've matched me at 10 lb 11 oz, my collarbone broken just to make it to this side of the world.  Thrilled I was, hardly missing the rest when they reentered the room announcing that Daddy had taken them to the tattoo parlor down the road to add him to the Winnie the Pooh balloons that he is quite renowned for now.         
     We've always "roomed in" with our babies, so when Macklynn was gone for longer than I expected, I got antsy that his care wasn't timely, only to be met by a Pediatric Cardiologist.  X-rays in hand, he said a young nurse had noticed that his heartbeat was faint.  He had a reassuring look on his face, though.  You see Macklynn's heart is flipped over backwards, almost sitting to the right side of his chest.  It's called Dextrocardia.  However, he is "plumbed" correctly, else he would've required immediate open heart surgery and if it'd gone undetected, dead in 3 days.   This condition, because it doesn't have accompanying "mirrored" organs is considered not just rare, but "very rare".   The numbers are only in the hundreds and most of those don't find out they have the condition until they're being checked for age related heart disease late in life.                                                                                                                                                    
     My little guy has escaped, not only that, but this time last year, he developed what most parents would fear as much as cancer.  Mike had taken him and Michael in the truck to Daytona for the Bud Shootout.  Their birthday trip was cut short short when after being on the beach, Macklynn suddenly lost his ability to walk.  Not understanding the severity, half thinking it was dehydration from vomiting.  Mike drove STRAIGHT home to North Carolina.  With no delay, we took him on to Baptist Children's Hospital where an ER doctor recognized the condition (that only arises once or so a year there).  A neurologist rushed in, from bed.  A spinal tap was required that proved he had meningitis AND the MRI showed the "white spots" on his brain that revealed encephalitis, too.  It's called Transverse Myelitis.  He didn't "catch it"; his body had turned against its own system, possibly in response to a simple cold 2 weeks prior, sending white blood cells into his spinal cord and the lining of his brain causing them to swell and paralyze him.  They warned us that the progression wouldn't stop for 5 more days, even with the gargantuan doses of steroids they planned to start him on ...and that he would likely "lose" his arms also.   2 afternoons later, when he was eating a popsicle, his hand fell with it to his bare chest .... and he couldn't lift it.  For 36 hours, he was a quadriplegic, but then the outstanding medical care and the cries to God payed off - he showed improvement.  Regardless, they said his condition made it so that he would have to relearn to walk and that he would be admitted into an "in house" rehabilitation hospital for 4 to 6 months, even then only 50% of people regain complete physical and mental function.                                                                                          
     His headaches, blood tests, glucose pricks, God- awful tasting medicine, and worst, the catheterizations, continued.  So that they could closely monitor his condition, he wasn't medicated for pain.  He suffered.  So as he regains some feeling, how do you explain as you hold down the writhing arms of your 4 year old as they put the catheter into his burning, painful system that it's only helping him pee?!  He pleaded and begged, BROKEN, that we would stop them from doing it!  He ceased giving eye contact or acknowledgement to anyone with a lab coat on.  My face is wet now from the remembrance.  I surely hope that none who read this will ever hold this kind of memory.  When a malfunction of a machine called for an unnecessary emptying of his bladder and Mike and I turned on each other;  I locked myself in the bathroom, melted to the floor, and told God with clinched teeth that it was finally too much for me.  My God heard me ... and my Macklynn, when lifted out of bed the next day, felt his feet.  And then that child of mine WALKED under his own power right out of that hospital 9 days after it all began.  But not before the hospital staff who had heard of our 4 b-days we had been separated for that week (and even though the hospital was closed to all visiting children because of a flu scare), they opened a conference room, "snuck" in the whole family, gave them presents, and had personally gotten a cake and decorations.  Good people are blooming in cracks all around us.                    
     He continued high doses of steroids for a month at home and by the grace of the Almighty, has NO lingering effects.  I'm beginning to think this child has lived to tell so much because he might just be meant for more.  I take seriously the training of a mighty man of God and am reevaluating myself on this as I write.   So, when I say I was delighted to get the call that all my fellas were at that race this past weekend, I mean that my heart ached in sheer thankfulness and humility.