Love Conquers All

Jack was watching TV when I came into the room to tell him. He grinned and whipped his head around. SpongeBob could wait. Jack didn’t say a word. Instead, my precious eight-year-old son simply held out his left hand and gave me a fist pound. Then he got up from the couch, gave me a hug and said, “I love you, Dada.” He sat back down, the smile never leaving his face.

Jack and I now have something in common: Last Saturday, I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation, a condition that can put pressure on the brain and spinal cord. His situation required surgery when he was just 22 months old.  

Before I go any further, I want to make it clear that I am not writing this in an attempt to look for sympathy. I’m sharing this news because I’ve tried my best to share my life with all of you.  

For most of my life, I’ve dealt with what I thought were sporadic migraines. They popped up maybe once or twice a month, but I didn’t think much of it. They didn’t really affect my life in any significant way. Over the past six months or so, however, I have been experiencing them more frequently, and for the last 10 days I’ve battled a constant migraine.

My wife, Stephanie, who is a nurse, was concerned it could be something serious, so I made a doctor's appointment. To eliminate anything serious the doctor ordered a CT scan of my brain. We got the results last Friday night. And the initial readings said I had Chiari. That was confirmed during an appointment with my doctor on Monday, and in the next few weeks I will head to the University of Michigan neurology department to develop a plan to manage the symptoms. 

Honestly, it was a sense of relief, because I was concerned it was something more serious. I can deal with Chiari. When Jack gave me that fist pound, my anxiety turned to relief. 

Jack has a big scar on the back of his head from his surgery, and when he gets a haircut it's prominent. Symptoms are different for each kid. In Jack’s case, he had headaches (we assume from all the screaming) and he vomited almost daily. Surgery relieved those symptoms. Although he has been in and out of physical therapy and has a few balance issues, he now lives a normal life. If it wasn’t for the scar on the back of his head, no one would know he had the condition. 

He isn’t allowed to play contact sports and there is a chance he will have the same surgery again at some point, but he’s a happy kid. Steph and I are very lucky. Although we have talked about his surgery in conversations, Jack has never really asked much about it. Until last night. 

I was laying in bed after dinner when he climbed in to read his book to me. Then he asked me a bunch of questions about how I was feeling and what it was like when he was sick. He asked about the hospital and the doctor–questions we assumed he didn’t care about. I answered them all, and then he read to me like he does most nights. Answering his questions made me smile like Jack did when I shared my news.

Jack is a mama’s boy, and that’s OK with me. When we ask who he wants to tuck him in for bed, the answer almost every night is “Momma.” He doesn’t love sports, though he took up golf at the end of last year, and he’s a nerd. (That’s not a negative term.) He loves Rubix Cube and Pokemon. I had never touched either of those things before Jack started playing with them. I have a pillow fight with Jack and his older sister, Annie, a couple days a week, and Jack often lays back not wanting to hurt me while Annie tries to knee me in the head. It all makes me laugh. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me; he does, and he’s a great kid. He just loves his mom more. And that’s OK. 

So the conversation in the bed about Chiari made him feel comfortable to talk about it for the first time. It gave us a connection we now share. It brought us closer. Maybe for a moment, maybe for the rest of our lives. Who knows? But that smile made it all OK. 

That smile and fist pound was a special moment, one that Jack and I don’t have often. 

Annie, in her typical way, broke up the moment by saying, “Dad, do you feel guilty that Jack has Chiari because of you?”

I laughed. Life goes on. 

(Also I’m blaming my chipping yips on my brain condition. Built in excuse).