A Sixth Sense
A Day in the life of Brayden: 6th sense?
Early Saturday morning: Chad looks at Brayden, “what is it buddy? Do we need to go? Are we running out of time?” Brayden puts his fists together in the way he says yes. Could Brayden know what is going on with his Grandpa? Does he know that today is the last day that we would spend time with his grandfather?
Rewind: For those of you that know Brayden he is a very active little boy. He jumps twirls, and spins. I wish I could bottle his energy. To say I had anxiety to take Brayden to see Bob last Sunday that would be an understatement. I was still a bit traumatized from our last visit although that was at a diffent facility. When we arrived last Sunday to visit Chad’s dad at the rehab center Brayden was very content. I am not going to tell you that he wasn’t loud, didn’t jump, spin, or spill things but he is only 5. I was shocked at how he tolerated the unfamiliar room, noises, and people. We were in Green Bay for 4 days. Most of the time was spent visiting with Chad’s dad. Brayden never complained about being in the room. If we would step out to get some food or if the nurses needed to reposition Bob, Brayden would immediately dart back to the room. We left Wednesday night and Something happened to Brayden when we left. From the moment our car turned in our driveway he started to cry. He cried like he had lost something. He escaped out of the house every chance he got. He unlocked the dead bolt and off he went around the house with me hot on his heels. Chad was out mowing the lawn. The panic in Brayden’s eyes as he darted his eyes left and right, putting his head down and started his mad dash gallop of a run to the car. He was determined to go somewhere despite all his fears. We thought maybe he had left one of his prizes in the car. Where is his stuffed wolf? Where is his blanket? As the night progressed the crying and distress didn’t stop. He gathered up shoes, his coat and his monkey backpack. He was constantly grabbing your hand leading you to the door. His cry was a heartbroken sob as I tried to redirect him. We would let him lead us outside but he just wanted to get into the car. He would swat your hand in the direction of the wheel as if to say, “drive.” I could tell by his face he was becoming angry as I would remove him from the car. Despite my best attempts I could not get him to sleep that night. He refused to take off his socks and shoes and he was hugging his prizes. The next day I called home at break. How is he doing? Apparently this overwhelming sadness and shoe collection continued throughout the day. Normally he doesn’t fixate like this. He refused all food and drink, even pop. The therapists took his temperature. That could be the only explanation for Brayden refusing pop. His therapists said he wants to go somewhere, “I just want to put him in the car and drive.” Kari said.
Thursday afternoon: It had to be 90 degrees out as I drove up the driveway after work. I see Brayden standing by our car. He is wearing Abby’s socks, a coat, and clutching shoes that belong to a variety of people at the house. I can tell that he is agitated and very sad. The therapist reports he fell asleep for 20 minutes but cried in his sleep the whole time. I run a number of different thoughts through my head. I thought is he in pain? Did he poop lately? Is he hurt? I pull out my tablet and bring up the pictures that we took last Sunday. Brayden points to his grandpa. I thought it was a fluke. I go to the next photo. He quickly identifies his grandpa again, Hmmmm…….
Thursday night: I tell Brayden it is time to go. Abby plays volleyball in Thorp tonight. I load him up in the car and off we travel. As we head out he is happy and calm. The drive is peaceful. As we pull into the highschool the crying starts again. I can tell he is increasingly agitated. We have his tablet, chewy, headphones, juice, and we stop at the concessions for a pretzel and popcorn. Brayden is a lot of things but one thing that I have always said is that he is not naughty and transitions easily. Throughout the course of the volleyball game I felt like I was wrestling with a bear. He looked into my eyes with a sense of frustration and anger. He was so sensory overloaded and wanted something and I just wasn’t listening. I could see his agitation and that he had no idea how to respond. I tried the usual foot squish and hugs. When that didn’t work I stood next to the bleachers and held him, swaying from side to side like you would an inconsolable infant. Thinking the gym was too loud we went out into the entryway. I was completely caught off guard when he bit me. He bit me over and over throughout the remainder of the game. Each time he looked at me with this look of desperation, please help, please listen. I tried all modes to get him to stop. I scolded, explained, was tearful, I pressed his face tightly into my jowls to get him to detach. At one point I even gently slapped his mouth and stood him on the floor and looked him square in the eye and explained to him, “that hurts mommy.” At this point the tears are flowing down my face. I am sad because I am looking square in the eye of a 5 year old and he has no idea what he has done wrong. The blankness on his face makes the tears flow harder. I feel remorse for slapping his mouth, I feel like a monster for being scared of my son. I feel a sense of panic of what if this the beginnings of a new behavior? He weighs 40 pounds and I am scared of him. I feel myself flinch. How can he go to school? What if he bites there. Why is he doing this? I have never seen this happen before. Why I am diving into a rabbit hole of questions and despair? As I walked to the car and put him in his car seat I wonder what the point of all this is. A little boy trapped in a body that can’t communicate. So frustrated on the inside he feels he has to lash out. He starts to cry the moment we hit the car. We are headed home for what I can see as another night of sleeplessness.
Saturday morning: As we sit in Chad’s dad’s room. Brayden giggles and twirls, what a nice distraction. He is so happy and content. I have my boy back. As we step out of the room, to take Brayden to the bathroom he complains the whole way. When we are through in the restroom he immediately turns down the correct hallway and barrels into Bob’s room. He plunks down in the stroller and just sits, waits and watches. Is this where he wanted to be? Does he know what is going on around him? Bob is struggling to breathe, we reposition, swab his mouth and hold his hand. He has long pauses in his breathing. Brayden is just sitting in the chair peacefully.
Everyone knows how I love to talk so as we apply lotion and wash Bob’s face I ask Abby wants to be when she grows up. She says a nurse. I ask her what area she would like to work in. She says, “I couldn't work here, it is too sad.” I looked as her and said, “everyone needs good care and love, wouldn’t you want your loved ones cared for like you would care for them? I have had a lot of time to think over the past week. So many things that I have taken for granted to run through my mind. Chad’s dad was a vibrant athletic man. He was the dad that played basketball and softball leagues with his highschool sons. Then he got cancer. Now here he lays febrile, unconscious, and suffocating from the fluid in his lungs. It really puts things into perspective. I am so grateful for my family and health. Something I really take for granted.
Suddenly a panic has over come Brayden. He is ready to go. He grabs his backpack and climbs into the stroller. He jumps out and grabs a sweatshirt and back in he goes. He starts to cry. He is becoming very loud he is rocking back and forth a sense of urgency. We try offering him food, drink, his tablet, and the girls take him out to walk with him. He is beside himself with sadness. It is getting late. Maybe he is just getting tired. The nurses come into repostion Bob and give him some medication. We should go. I hate to leave Chad’s dad. I don’t want him to be alone. I want to stay. I know the kids need me and Brayden needs to go. We give Bob a kiss, tell him we love him and to rest well, we will see him in the morning. However as I leave I have a feeling this is the last time we will see him. We drive to Chad’s cousin’s house. Brayden is beside himself. He paces, cries, and jumps up and down. Something is terribly wrong. Chad and I debate on whether or not we should just go home. This is a completely new behavior for him. Suddenly Brayden lays down and falls asleep. Shortly there after we receive a phone call that Bob has passed. Is this coincidence? Maybe. Did this little boy who was so determined to get us to Bob now was so passionate to get us to leave. I am convicted that Bob did not want to pass while we were there. As I spoke with Bob and asked him to cough so I could swab his mouth I could see his eye flutter under the lids to heavy to open. Bob never wanted to be noticed or fussed over so he didn’t want it to start now. We find comfort that Bob is now peaceful and comfortable. He can breath easily and be free from pain and illness. We only get one family. Make sure that you take the time to say, “I love you.” We love you Bob, and you will be missed, until we meet again. Love, Your family.
Early Saturday morning: Chad looks at Brayden, “what is it buddy? Do we need to go? Are we running out of time?” Brayden puts his fists together in the way he says yes. Could Brayden know what is going on with his Grandpa? Does he know that today is the last day that we would spend time with his grandfather?
Rewind: For those of you that know Brayden he is a very active little boy. He jumps twirls, and spins. I wish I could bottle his energy. To say I had anxiety to take Brayden to see Bob last Sunday that would be an understatement. I was still a bit traumatized from our last visit although that was at a diffent facility. When we arrived last Sunday to visit Chad’s dad at the rehab center Brayden was very content. I am not going to tell you that he wasn’t loud, didn’t jump, spin, or spill things but he is only 5. I was shocked at how he tolerated the unfamiliar room, noises, and people. We were in Green Bay for 4 days. Most of the time was spent visiting with Chad’s dad. Brayden never complained about being in the room. If we would step out to get some food or if the nurses needed to reposition Bob, Brayden would immediately dart back to the room. We left Wednesday night and Something happened to Brayden when we left. From the moment our car turned in our driveway he started to cry. He cried like he had lost something. He escaped out of the house every chance he got. He unlocked the dead bolt and off he went around the house with me hot on his heels. Chad was out mowing the lawn. The panic in Brayden’s eyes as he darted his eyes left and right, putting his head down and started his mad dash gallop of a run to the car. He was determined to go somewhere despite all his fears. We thought maybe he had left one of his prizes in the car. Where is his stuffed wolf? Where is his blanket? As the night progressed the crying and distress didn’t stop. He gathered up shoes, his coat and his monkey backpack. He was constantly grabbing your hand leading you to the door. His cry was a heartbroken sob as I tried to redirect him. We would let him lead us outside but he just wanted to get into the car. He would swat your hand in the direction of the wheel as if to say, “drive.” I could tell by his face he was becoming angry as I would remove him from the car. Despite my best attempts I could not get him to sleep that night. He refused to take off his socks and shoes and he was hugging his prizes. The next day I called home at break. How is he doing? Apparently this overwhelming sadness and shoe collection continued throughout the day. Normally he doesn’t fixate like this. He refused all food and drink, even pop. The therapists took his temperature. That could be the only explanation for Brayden refusing pop. His therapists said he wants to go somewhere, “I just want to put him in the car and drive.” Kari said.
Thursday afternoon: It had to be 90 degrees out as I drove up the driveway after work. I see Brayden standing by our car. He is wearing Abby’s socks, a coat, and clutching shoes that belong to a variety of people at the house. I can tell that he is agitated and very sad. The therapist reports he fell asleep for 20 minutes but cried in his sleep the whole time. I run a number of different thoughts through my head. I thought is he in pain? Did he poop lately? Is he hurt? I pull out my tablet and bring up the pictures that we took last Sunday. Brayden points to his grandpa. I thought it was a fluke. I go to the next photo. He quickly identifies his grandpa again, Hmmmm…….
Thursday night: I tell Brayden it is time to go. Abby plays volleyball in Thorp tonight. I load him up in the car and off we travel. As we head out he is happy and calm. The drive is peaceful. As we pull into the highschool the crying starts again. I can tell he is increasingly agitated. We have his tablet, chewy, headphones, juice, and we stop at the concessions for a pretzel and popcorn. Brayden is a lot of things but one thing that I have always said is that he is not naughty and transitions easily. Throughout the course of the volleyball game I felt like I was wrestling with a bear. He looked into my eyes with a sense of frustration and anger. He was so sensory overloaded and wanted something and I just wasn’t listening. I could see his agitation and that he had no idea how to respond. I tried the usual foot squish and hugs. When that didn’t work I stood next to the bleachers and held him, swaying from side to side like you would an inconsolable infant. Thinking the gym was too loud we went out into the entryway. I was completely caught off guard when he bit me. He bit me over and over throughout the remainder of the game. Each time he looked at me with this look of desperation, please help, please listen. I tried all modes to get him to stop. I scolded, explained, was tearful, I pressed his face tightly into my jowls to get him to detach. At one point I even gently slapped his mouth and stood him on the floor and looked him square in the eye and explained to him, “that hurts mommy.” At this point the tears are flowing down my face. I am sad because I am looking square in the eye of a 5 year old and he has no idea what he has done wrong. The blankness on his face makes the tears flow harder. I feel remorse for slapping his mouth, I feel like a monster for being scared of my son. I feel a sense of panic of what if this the beginnings of a new behavior? He weighs 40 pounds and I am scared of him. I feel myself flinch. How can he go to school? What if he bites there. Why is he doing this? I have never seen this happen before. Why I am diving into a rabbit hole of questions and despair? As I walked to the car and put him in his car seat I wonder what the point of all this is. A little boy trapped in a body that can’t communicate. So frustrated on the inside he feels he has to lash out. He starts to cry the moment we hit the car. We are headed home for what I can see as another night of sleeplessness.
Saturday morning: As we sit in Chad’s dad’s room. Brayden giggles and twirls, what a nice distraction. He is so happy and content. I have my boy back. As we step out of the room, to take Brayden to the bathroom he complains the whole way. When we are through in the restroom he immediately turns down the correct hallway and barrels into Bob’s room. He plunks down in the stroller and just sits, waits and watches. Is this where he wanted to be? Does he know what is going on around him? Bob is struggling to breathe, we reposition, swab his mouth and hold his hand. He has long pauses in his breathing. Brayden is just sitting in the chair peacefully.
Everyone knows how I love to talk so as we apply lotion and wash Bob’s face I ask Abby wants to be when she grows up. She says a nurse. I ask her what area she would like to work in. She says, “I couldn't work here, it is too sad.” I looked as her and said, “everyone needs good care and love, wouldn’t you want your loved ones cared for like you would care for them? I have had a lot of time to think over the past week. So many things that I have taken for granted to run through my mind. Chad’s dad was a vibrant athletic man. He was the dad that played basketball and softball leagues with his highschool sons. Then he got cancer. Now here he lays febrile, unconscious, and suffocating from the fluid in his lungs. It really puts things into perspective. I am so grateful for my family and health. Something I really take for granted.
Suddenly a panic has over come Brayden. He is ready to go. He grabs his backpack and climbs into the stroller. He jumps out and grabs a sweatshirt and back in he goes. He starts to cry. He is becoming very loud he is rocking back and forth a sense of urgency. We try offering him food, drink, his tablet, and the girls take him out to walk with him. He is beside himself with sadness. It is getting late. Maybe he is just getting tired. The nurses come into repostion Bob and give him some medication. We should go. I hate to leave Chad’s dad. I don’t want him to be alone. I want to stay. I know the kids need me and Brayden needs to go. We give Bob a kiss, tell him we love him and to rest well, we will see him in the morning. However as I leave I have a feeling this is the last time we will see him. We drive to Chad’s cousin’s house. Brayden is beside himself. He paces, cries, and jumps up and down. Something is terribly wrong. Chad and I debate on whether or not we should just go home. This is a completely new behavior for him. Suddenly Brayden lays down and falls asleep. Shortly there after we receive a phone call that Bob has passed. Is this coincidence? Maybe. Did this little boy who was so determined to get us to Bob now was so passionate to get us to leave. I am convicted that Bob did not want to pass while we were there. As I spoke with Bob and asked him to cough so I could swab his mouth I could see his eye flutter under the lids to heavy to open. Bob never wanted to be noticed or fussed over so he didn’t want it to start now. We find comfort that Bob is now peaceful and comfortable. He can breath easily and be free from pain and illness. We only get one family. Make sure that you take the time to say, “I love you.” We love you Bob, and you will be missed, until we meet again. Love, Your family.
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