Walden Cabin: Observations typed on an old Underwood

Excerpt from "Legacy of Angus"

Reader's Digest Canada (April, 2002)

By Stuart Hickox

Suzy and Freda broke down and cried. Dr. Young Tai waited while we huddled. Finally I stood and told the doctor that if the little guy crashed again, we wanted to let him go. He had suffered enough. Dr. Young Tai nodded, touched Suzy's arm, and left.

Within a few minutes, she rushed back in. He'd crashed again. I asked Suzy how she felt about holding him as he died. She shook her head, crying. I could relate. We had to do it, but we didn't want to. I knew I couldn't live with myself later if I let him die alone in the incubator. I felt Suzy would feel the same.

A nurse wheeled Suzy past me and into the draped resuscitation room across the corridor. There, in separate incubators, were our two sons. Each was on his back, splayed out for the wires and tubes. It was a horrible scene. And whatever strength we had disappeared in a sea of despair.

The sight of Suzy writhing in agony on the gurney was hardest of all. No comforting, no touch, could dull this pain. I was acutely aware of myself as an individual. I wasn't a partner or a friend or a husband or a father. I was alone in a world of grief.

Dr. Young Tai was whispering that they'd done all they could. A nurse offered to get a chaplain. I looked at Suzy, unsure. Freda squeezed my arm. "We should baptize him," she said.

Chaplain Betty Calvin showed up almost immediately. We gathered at the incubator, and she brought out a candle with a little blue ribbon on it. She asked, "What is the baby's name?"

We hadn't decided. We had always agreed that our first son would be called Angus. It's what my mother wanted to call me. We came up with the name Jasper only when we found out we were having twins.

I looked at Suzy. She couldn't speak. We were running out of time. I knew what to do. "His name is Angus," I declared. Suzy said today that I yelled this and that I sounded very angry. I was. My dreams were dying in front of my eyes. I just couldn't let this little guy have a second-choice name. He had to have some importance, even in a very short life.

Chaplain Betty prayed for Angus and baptized him. Together we celebrated him and stroked his little brow, trying desperately to show him a lifetime of love in just a few minutes.

I don't remember leaving that room. I just recall blurry images of passing the reception desk on the way back to the labour room. People stopped to watch us. They knew.

Then Dr. Young Tai came into the room with a bundle. Angus was wearing a blue knit cap. All we could see was his face and one tiny hand at his chin. I held him first. He weighed almost nothing. His face was becoming a deep red, but he had the most beautiful mouth. I was stunned at how perfectly formed he was, everything right down to his tiny fingernails.

Angus was gasping painfully, so Dr. Young Tai reached below the blanket and, using a syringe, squeezed a small dose of morphine into his IV to calm him down. I kissed Angus's head and passed him to Freda. She started crying and passed her grandson to Suzy.

A man could never imagine such a searing image. Poor Suzy all alone and so utterly destroyed, cradling her son as he slowly died. I would never, ever wish that experience on my worst enemy. My beautiful wife, a new mother, was crushed and, I feared, beyond reach. I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and left me gasping and helpless.

After a few minutes, Suzy passed Angus back to me. Dr. Young Tai came and checked his heartbeat. "Not long now," she said. I wanted it to be over. But I also wanted it to last forever. Under his little hat, Angus had the most beautiful golden hair, tiny wisps that curled as they dried. I ran my finger along his brow and apologized to him. This little boy would never experience all the wonders of life. We had tried our very best to save him. But we had failed. I had failed. My baby!

How could this brief encounter be the beginning and the end?

Stuart@accolade.ca

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	Excerpt from "Legacy of Angus" Reader's Digest Canada (April, 2002) By Stuart Hickox Suzy and Freda broke down and cried. Dr. Young Tai waited while we huddled. Finally I stood and told the doctor that if the little guy crashed again, we wanted to let him go. He had suffered enough. Dr. Young Tai nodded, touched Suzy's arm, and left. Within a few minutes, she rushed back in. He'd crashed again. I asked Suzy how she felt about holding him as he died. She shook her head, crying. I could relate. We had to do it, but we didn't want to. I knew I couldn't live with myself later if I let him die alone in the incubator. I felt Suzy would feel the same. A nurse wheeled Suzy past me and into the draped resuscitation room across the corridor. There, in separate incubators, were our two sons. Each was on his back, splayed out for the wires and tubes. It was a horrible scene. And whatever strength we had disappeared in a sea of despair. The sight of Suzy writhing in agony on the gurney was hardest of all. No comforting, no touch, could dull this pain. I was acutely aware of myself as an individual. I wasn't a partner or a friend or a husband or a father. I was alone in a world of grief. Dr. Young Tai was whispering that they'd done all they could. A nurse offered to get a chaplain. I looked at Suzy, unsure. Freda squeezed my arm. "We should baptize him," she said. Chaplain Betty Calvin showed up almost immediately. We gathered at the incubator, and she brought out a candle with a little blue ribbon on it. She asked, "What is the baby's name?" We hadn't decided. We had always agreed that our first son would be called Angus. It's what my mother wanted to call me. We came up with the name Jasper only when we found out we were having twins. I looked at Suzy. She couldn't speak. We were running out of time. I knew what to do. "His name is Angus," I declared. Suzy said today that I yelled this and that I sounded very angry. I was. My dreams were dying in front of my eyes. I just couldn't let this little guy have a second-choice name. He had to have some importance, even in a very short life. Chaplain Betty prayed for Angus and baptized him. Together we celebrated him and stroked his little brow, trying desperately to show him a lifetime of love in just a few minutes. I don't remember leaving that room. I just recall blurry images of passing the reception desk on the way back to the labour room. People stopped to watch us. They knew. Then Dr. Young Tai came into the room with a bundle. Angus was wearing a blue knit cap. All we could see was his face and one tiny hand at his chin. I held him first. He weighed almost nothing. His face was becoming a deep red, but he had the most beautiful mouth. I was stunned at how perfectly formed he was, everything right down to his tiny fingernails. Angus was gasping painfully, so Dr. Young Tai reached below the blanket and, using a syringe, squeezed a small dose of morphine into his IV to calm him down. I kissed Angus's head and passed him to Freda. She started crying and passed her grandson to Suzy. A man could never imagine such a searing image. Poor Suzy all alone and so utterly destroyed, cradling her son as he slowly died. I would never, ever wish that experience on my worst enemy. My beautiful wife, a new mother, was crushed and, I feared, beyond reach. I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and left me gasping and helpless. After a few minutes, Suzy passed Angus back to me. Dr. Young Tai came and checked his heartbeat. "Not long now," she said. I wanted it to be over. But I also wanted it to last forever. Under his little hat, Angus had the most beautiful golden hair, tiny wisps that curled as they dried. I ran my finger along his brow and apologized to him. This little boy would never experience all the wonders of life. We had tried our very best to save him. But we had failed. I had failed. My baby! How could this brief encounter be the beginning and the end? Stuart@accolade.ca >> Back to Walden Cabin				Head for the Hills of Prince Edward Island Walden Cabin >> "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to front the essential facts of life and to see if I could learn what they had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) Walden; Or Life in the Woods (08.21) Walden Cabin is a publishing creation of Accolade Intermedia, an Ottawa-based communications company that specializes in content-rich Web products. www.accolade.ca >>
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