As a parent, my worst nightmare is having my children get seriously hurt. As a TBI surviving parent, my worst nightmare is having my children get seriously hurt and having a TBI to show for it. In the past four months or so I've had to endure both scenarios, one for each child. Unfortunately the banner image isn't a stock photo. That's our youngest being wheeled on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance.
The red of Canada Day
Flashback to Canada Day, July 1, 2020 - a day where we saw a little too much red and white. It was a gorgeous sunny day with nary a cloud in the sky. In the midst of a global pandemic, pretty much all Canada Day festivities had been called off. A very unusual July 1st in the Nation's Capital indeed. But it was a perfect day for a bike ride! With our red t-shirts donned, we headed out to take in some scenery and fresh air. The first hour was fairly uneventful, we encountered many other cyclists who were respectful of distancing and the boys were pretty well behaved. We continued near the Rideau Canal to enjoy the sight of boats and the lockmasters at work.
Locks are used to raise and lower watercraft along stretches of a waterway where the water may be at different levels. And that means... hills! And sometimes big ones. Those of you that know me know that I'm a proud dad. I love it when my boys (who are small for their age) can do things that seemingly only the big boys are capable of. It probably also turns me stupid sometimes. What happened next was an example of "stupid dad." I've been told to stop kicking myself, and I probably should because it turned out OK in the end. Anyways, the boys love hills. What kid doesn't? The boys were great at hills. They wanted to do the hill at Hartwells Locks and I was going to let them! I was even cautious, I sent my wife to the bottom to keep watch so that we wouldn't run anyone over.
As soon as I sent our three year old, I knew I had made a mistake. He picked up speed faster than he had ever done before. His older brother followed. They were loving it. As they got closer to the two trees about halfway down the hill, the dreaded front wheel wobble happened to our youngest. He almost recovered. The next moments couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Over the handlebars he went. And he hit the ground. And flipped again. And landed on his head, and finally his back. I seem to recall that his bike might have hit him on the way down as well, but I can't be certain. Then silence. Then screams. Then crying and screams. Our eldest slammed on the brakes, stunned. My wife saw it unfold from the bottom of the hill. I was at the top of the hill, I saw everything. I raced down as quickly as I could, past our eldest, and jumped off my bike.
I was the worst dad in the world, but I was also the first on scene. My years of first aid training instantly kicked in. There was a gush of blood coming out from underneath his helmet. (Head wounds are the worst for bleeding due to the number of blood vessels in the head supplying oxygen to the brain.) There was blood on his clothes, all over his face, on the pavement. I quickly checked for a neck injury then removed his helmet. I had to stay positive, first good sign was that the helmet had taken quite a bit of damage. It had done its job and prevented a more serious injury (whatever that meant at the time). Second good sign was that the bleeding appeared to be fairly localized to a small area. I happened to have a wad of tissues in my pocket (thank you, seasonal allergies?) and immediately applied pressure to the wound. The screaming had stopped, but he was still crying pretty hard. I quickly checked his eyes. Good news, his pupils were the same size and responsive. Understandably, I didn't get much response when I asked what else hurt but a quick check seemed to indicate that he probably didn't break anything. Then daddy mode turned on and I focused on comforting our son, with the help of my wife who had managed to scurry up the hill to the crash site. I sent her to the lockmaster station to get help. We had two lockmasters come to help us, I unfortunately no longer remember their names. The supervisor called 9-1-1 and an ambulance was dispatched for a ride to CHEO with mom.
Kids are amazingly resilient and rubbery. CHEO's assessment was no serious injury, but the physical scars will be a lasting memory of what happened that July 1st. The mental scars showed signs of healing 13 days later when our youngest went to the front door and said "Daddy, I want to ride my bike!" I had been chatting with my wife. I literally stopped mid-conversation and dropped everything that I had in my hands. We were going biking again. New helmet on his noggin, our youngest had a great first ride back from a very scary and traumatic crash.
I should highlight the helpfulness and calmness of those who assisted us on scene, notably the two lockmasters and the paramedics. I regret not remembering any of the names (Mitchell rings a bell for the younger lockmaster and I think Candace was one of the paramedics). We returned to the locks the next day where our son presented the supervisor with a personally drawn thank you card (which might still be on the fridge at the Hartwells lockmaster house). In return, our sons got to split a jumbo freezie.
A scare before Halloween
Fast forward to October 23rd, 2020, when we received another scare a week before Halloween. The details are a bit unclear because our eldest does not fully remember all the details. And other six year olds having fun don't always make very good witnesses. The story goes that he was running in the grassy field with some friends. And he's always fast. My mom always tells him to slow down, but how do you get a six year old to slow down? In this case, he was unfortunately slowed down by the ground. There was a tumble somehow and a fall somewhere, followed by a frantic call from the school. Unfortunately, I had chosen this day to work at the office so I was 20 minutes away instead of 5. For a split second, the "Worst Dad in the World" feeling returned, but certainly I can't have my kids in bubble wrap and always be 5 minutes away. I took the two minutes to make sure that anything that I abandoned would not leave my colleagues stranded and booted it to school. I think I made it in 15.
It was a disheartening sight. Our eldest looked confused and tired. There was evidence of a bloody nose and a giant goose egg on the right side of his forehead. He did not remember hitting the front of his head, but was able to point out an even larger bump just above and behind his ear. (I also discovered a large bruise on the back of his shoulder the next day.) The staff indicated that he should be taken to CHEO for concussion protocol. Once he threw up all over me, they were insistent. With my history, I hadn't had any second thought. My wife arrived from her workplace within 5 minutes of my arrival and took care of our youngest, who was to go home as well since it was close to the end of the day.
With our eldest secured in the back, barf bag in hand, we sped off to CHEO. Over the next 15 minutes, I could see the light coming back on in his eyes. A good sign.
We were quickly seen by nurses and a doctor and an unsurprising diagnosis of concussion was given. I knew it was coming, but it still pained me to know I am still recovering over six years later. I didn't want this to be his fate. It was reassuring that the CHEO staff were taking this seriously. We stayed almost 4 hours for observation. The most promising development during our stay was that our eldest was hungry and wanted a snack. We ordered watermelon and pickles from the menu. Things were seeming right in the world again.
A month later, we're still keeping a close eye on things. I see a lot in our eldest that I see in myself, the biggest symptom being fatigue. When fatigued, impatience and a short temper. (Un)luckily, his regular teacher suffered her own concussion in April so I know that she's keeping watch from the corner of her eye (you know, between teaching and keeping the peace and following covid protocol and....). Ultimately, his care is in our hands and we've discussed with his teachers about pulling him out of class early a few times a week for him to come home and rest. All I know is that I don't want him to go through what I've gone through.
But kids are resilient and rubbery. May he continue to bounce back.
