The Hardest Challenge I Ever Faced
The Hardest Challenge I Have Ever Faced
I have meet with more than my share of difficult challenges. This one will remain with me always, occasionally playing over in my mind when I look at my son. It was April of 1993, the eve of Easter Sunday; my children and I were coloring Easter eggs in anticipation of the big hunt the following morning. The kids were excited and having a blast, especially my three-and-a-half- year old son Joey. With the eggs freshly colored and carrots left out for the Easter Bunny, I put my children to bed, prepared the Easter baskets and retired myself. What happened the next morning would change not only my perspective, but also my entire life.
As Easter morning arrived, I arose to discover that Joey was still sleeping, unusual for a three-year-old. When I tried to wake him, he said his back was hurting and he did not want to get up. I waited a little while, went back into his room and once again had a hard time arousing him. This time I asked him to stand up for me in an attempt to figure out what was bothering him. He must have been in tremendous pain; when he tried to stand he was unsteady, his little legs were shaking much like that of a frightened puppy. It was time to take him to the emergency room. Something was terribly wrong.
We arrived at the emergency room only to find several people already there. Joey was begging me to do something to stop the pain in his back; we waited and waited and waited. Finally, in total anger and despair I set out to find someone to help. The doctor came over, examined him and asked me several questions; it was slowly becoming apparent to me that this doctor did not have any answers. Meanwhile I was growing more concerned about the unknown; what was wrong with my child? The doctor, obviously puzzled by the situation, decided to run a CBC (complete blood count). This took what felt like an eternity, suddenly the doctor became somewhat evasive, almost secretive. I was
I have meet with more than my share of difficult challenges. This one will remain with me always, occasionally playing over in my mind when I look at my son. It was April of 1993, the eve of Easter Sunday; my children and I were coloring Easter eggs in anticipation of the big hunt the following morning. The kids were excited and having a blast, especially my three-and-a-half- year old son Joey. With the eggs freshly colored and carrots left out for the Easter Bunny, I put my children to bed, prepared the Easter baskets and retired myself. What happened the next morning would change not only my perspective, but also my entire life.
As Easter morning arrived, I arose to discover that Joey was still sleeping, unusual for a three-year-old. When I tried to wake him, he said his back was hurting and he did not want to get up. I waited a little while, went back into his room and once again had a hard time arousing him. This time I asked him to stand up for me in an attempt to figure out what was bothering him. He must have been in tremendous pain; when he tried to stand he was unsteady, his little legs were shaking much like that of a frightened puppy. It was time to take him to the emergency room. Something was terribly wrong.
We arrived at the emergency room only to find several people already there. Joey was begging me to do something to stop the pain in his back; we waited and waited and waited. Finally, in total anger and despair I set out to find someone to help. The doctor came over, examined him and asked me several questions; it was slowly becoming apparent to me that this doctor did not have any answers. Meanwhile I was growing more concerned about the unknown; what was wrong with my child? The doctor, obviously puzzled by the situation, decided to run a CBC (complete blood count). This took what felt like an eternity, suddenly the doctor became somewhat evasive, almost secretive. I was