This was the day last year when . . . oh no, don’t worry, I’m not going to replay every miserable moment of last winter. If you want to walk through that heartache and misery all over again, you can scroll down to “Archives” on the left and click December 2009. In the meantime, I have a somewhat lighter story to tell, still replete with drama and suspense.
Braedan had an appointment with the psychologist this afternoon and Austin was scheduled to have labs drawn. After about five hours of nonstop snowfall, I briefly considered canceling but figured, “Come on, it’s Cleveland, I’m used to snow. We can surely make it the three miles down to the hospital.” I was largely motivated by the fact that Austin and I had baked zucchini muffins and pumpkin bread to bring to the families on the oncology floor, along with fresh fruit and coffee, for breakfast tomorrow. Plus I was finally going to clear all the donated toiletries out of my mudroom (even my mudroom gets cluttered) and deliver them to the Ronald McDonald Family Room.
So we bundled ourselves in snow gear and picked Braedan up from school fifteen minutes early (mostly so we wouldn’t get stuck in the mad rush of parents swooping in to rescue their children from the first major snowstorm of the year) and down we drove. It was slow going, visibility was negligible but it wasn’t rush hour or anything (foreshadowing, foreshadowing) so we made it just fine.
Braedan had a great session, Austin’s hemoglobin has actually gone up a tiny bit instead of down, delaying the need for a blood transfusion yet again, renal numbers held steady and all was well. We lugged suitcases and backpacks full of goodies clear to the other side of the hospital (Braedan: “This place is like an underground city, Mom.”). The nurses were thrilled, happy to see their healthy, thriving little ex-patient. We chatted and wandered around the halls hanging up signs announcing the breakfast, when someone asked us how we planned to get home. Well, drive, . . . how else?
Then the nurses pointed to the line of cars sitting dead still on the road, not having moved for nearly an hour despite ambulances coming through in both directions. Total and complete gridlock. The line out of the parking garage alone would have taken more than an hour. So I fed the boys some high-sodium junk in the cafeteria, unloaded as much gear as possible into my car, piled on extra layers of clothing . . . and off we walked.
Thankfully, my parents live about halfway between the hospital and our home, so it was less than two miles but solidly uphill and through a full ten inches of snow. But my boys dug deep and turned the whole thing into a wonderful wintry adventure. Austin needed to be carried on and off (mostly on) but Braedan didn’t complain even once, except when I tried to enlist him in a rousing rendition of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. Even Austin, safe in my aching arms, was smiling and catching snowflakes on his tongue.
We arrived after 45 minutes of hiking, tossed our pants and socks in the dryer while we warmed ourselves with hot chocolate (them) and wine (moi). Mark had driven about five miles in two hours before finding a place to stop and eat while waiting for the traffic to thin. We were all home and ready to plow the driveway before 8.
The little beans are sleeping soundly in their beds, the snow is still falling outside, the families at the hospital will fill their bellies with homemade treats tomorrow and I will return to find my car in the parking garage, where, as Braedan noted, “it’s used to sleeping.” Better than last year, that’s for sure!