rob delaney on the pain of losing his two-year-old son: \'our family’s story has a different ending than i’d hoped for\'

I went to the hospital to see my son Henry.
I had to take him by taxi to another hospital and take an appointment from some specialist doctors who did not do so at the hospital where he was staying.
I didn\'t want to take him on the bus to another hospital because when I had to turn on his suction machine to suck, I don\'t want to play with other curious passengers with the saliva and mucus collected in his trachea incision catheter.
However, he still wants to go by bus. He’s two.
Despite his physical disability during surgery to remove a brain tumor, his mind was very sharp and excited about a red double-decker bus as much as other little boys.
I will take him to the bus soon and they can suck my d ** if it makes anyone uncomfortable **. Metaphorically;
My family needed me too much because I was trying to force a stranger to suck my d ** on the bus so I couldn\'t be sent to jail.
Although I walked through two prisons on my way to the hospital, maybe it could work.
I\'m too tired.
My head felt like it was stuffed with hot garbage.
My chest and throat felt contracted, and I was reminded that while my life would remain stressful for the foreseeable future, I could at least lose weight to reduce my heart\'s workload, so heart events won\'t let me out until I\'m 50.
My greatest fear has always been that I finally realize eternity in some way.
End in heaven or hell or anywhere as I die, I am still \"I\", just never close, have to endure consciousness and awareness, there is nothing wonderful or terrible enough to attract me long, I. e. eternity.
This may be one of the factors I quit drinking 15 years ago;
I can really effectively hit my own consciousness \"kill switch\" as needed \".
This may also be the reason why I always prefer to take a nap more than food or money.
When my wife and I had children, the fear disappeared.
Especially boys.
My sperm will only have boys for some reason.
Fear is gone because I realize that I can do the eternal thing now.
I can recall the image of one of my sons, or the smell of their heads, or the feeling of one of their little feet in my hand, and I will be happy.
Give me a Polaroid of them, and I can do two things that will last forever.
I may wish that Henry was not in the hospital and that my child has not been living under the same roof for more than a year, which may make me sick.
But I am always happy to see him at the hospital every morning.
It\'s exciting to walk into his room every day, see him, see him see me.
The surgery to remove the tumor caused Bell paralysis on the left side of his face, so it was relaxed and drooping.
His left eye also turned inward due to nerve damage.
But his right face was very expressive and his right face brightened when I walked into the room.
There is no doubt what his mood is now.
This is especially precious when he is angry, because seeing the naked anger of a toddler on a half-faced face and a completely calm chubby chipmunk cheek made me and my wife and the nurses and/or doctors in the room laugh every time.
Forget it when he smiles.
The smile of a normal baby is wonderful enough.
When the sick baby of partial facial paralysis laughs, it is golden.
Especially my kids.
More than a year ago, Henry vomited at his eldest brother\'s five-year-old birthday party. No big deal;
He was our third child and we cleaned up enough vomit.
I \'ve been feeding him blueberries all the time, so there could be 15 to 20 recognizable blueberries in it.
Do I feed him too much?
Did I do something wrong?
He was eleven months old.
Am I a lazy parent? I asked him to keep eating because it kept him quiet.
These questions run through my head, but it doesn\'t matter if he spit them all out.
He\'s our third.
I\'m sure I let him eat sausage before he was nine months old.
It\'s not like your first child, you will ignore every little thing that comes into their mouth.
Do you want some sausage?
Crazy little guy.
Chorizo is good, why don\'t you want it?
I\'m glad I gave it to him too because he hasn\'t eaten for a year.
Now he eats through the tube in his stomach.
Some are called flaky peptides.
A nurse I know hates it because when the kids spit it out, it tastes the same way it was taken out of the bottle.
Children with chemotherapy often vomit.
So she thinks she\'s feeding her baby vomit.
The first time Henry threw up at his brother\'s birthday party, we cleaned it up and went on to the party.
He vomited a few more times the next day, so my wife called a nurse and the nurse said to bring him to the accident and emergency.
She wants to make sure he doesn\'t get dehydrated.
For some reason, in A and E, they thought he might have A urinary system infection.
Because he can\'t control the liquid very well, they let me feed him 5 miles of electrolyte juice with a syringe every 5 minutes, and put a small cup next to his penis, to capture any urine he might produce is actually a UTI.
It was really fun, holding a cup under his lovely little eleven --month-
Old Dick, feed him some juice every five minutes.
It\'s a meditation. we keep staring at each other.
I can\'t watch my phone or watch Finding Nemo on TV A and E so as not to miss A precious drop of urine he refused to give me.
He finally urinated and I gave them and we left with some antibiotics and they would call us and tell us if UTI was the culprit.
He continued to vomit, but it gradually decreased a bit, and it looked like he had at least taken in more calories, and then he would go back to the floor from time to time.
Still, we were worried, so we took him to our local GP.
The doctor gave him an examination. when we were there, Henry vomited all over the ground.
I\'m glad he vomited in front of the doctor.
I wanted to point to the vomit on the floor and say, \"Did you see the asshole?
It\'s okay. spit.
What are you going to do about it now?
\"What he did was to make an appointment for us to see the digestive scientist.
It makes sense to me because in my life, vomiting --
Related questions are generally centered on the stomach.
Vomiting was a bit stable and we decided to keep the plan to go to the United States during the Easter holiday.
Henry became one.
Vomiting intensified.
When we visited my mother in Massachusetts, we took Henry to an American hospital. For a five-hundred-
$ Deposit, they did an ultrasound on his kidneys to see if they were infected.
They don\'t seem.
They gave him different antibiotics.
We went back to London and began to get scared.
Henry is losing weight.
Every time he vomits, I get mad.
I will feed him so gently and so slowly, and assume that I did something wrong when he vomited.
If I can feed Henry\'s greedy brother, why can\'t I feed him?
I would imagine collecting vomit in some way and then pouring it back to him with a funnel.
My child is getting smaller and smaller, and it is a thing worth seeing.
He called the total weight less than I should have lost.
Henry has nothing to lose weight!
For me, his vomit became the most precious substance in the world, and I began to cry whenever he vomited.
I try not to cry in front of his brother or fail, they will ask why, I will say it is because I am afraid.
The GI doctor prescribed a medicine to keep you from vomiting.
He vomited anyway.
So far, we know we\'re going to get some bad news, and we\'re just praying that what can be surgically repaired is diarrhea or intestinal distortion.
My friend Brian, who is older than us, suggested that we go to see their pediatrician.
He said that a few years ago he and their son helped them solve a medical mystery. what is it? it is worth a try.
Like any other date, I personally took Henry to drassen.
My wife is an amazing mother, crazy about our kids and would be happy to take Henry, but for whatever reason I took him to the first date became my little project
My wife lives with our big boys, five and three years old, and frankly, they are often more difficult to post.
Henley and I entered his office.
He was very happy, probably in his 60 s.
He checked Henry and saw loose skin on the inside of his thigh, and he was as shocked as anyone else.
He asked some regular questions, but then he asked a question that stood out from other questions: \"Is his vomiting effortless? ”“Effortless.
\"Yes, did he lose his appetite when he vomited or did he look miserable?
Or did it just come out?
\"Well, well, well, it\'s effortless, yes.
He\'s not bothered at all.
\"Well, I think we should arrange an MRI. Of his head. ”“Okay, why?
\"Just to make sure there\'s nothing inside that shouldn\'t be.
Press his center for vomiting and let him vomit.
\"What, like a tumor? ”He paused.
\"I\'m glad you said that.
Henry is just two years old.
We dare not assume that he will have a second birthday after taking out the tumor and confirming which one, and the prognosis he received.
This is a real tumor.
The name of the ventricular membrane tumor.
Most of the babies were killed by a mesoma.
If I had one at 1970, I would almost certainly have died.
If you are big enough to read a story about a baby with a brain tumor, you may have to do so.
Today, they will still kill people, but your chances will increase if they can remove everything through surgery.
Henry wrapped several important cranial nerves in his posterior cranial socket.
To save them, his surgeon.
Mallick had to damage these cranial nerves.
So Bell\'s paralysis and lazy left eye.
The cranial nerve that supplied the left ear was cut off, so he is now deaf.
All of this is bad, but they are really nothing compared to the trachea incision.
Nerve damage in dealing with swallowing and pumping g, so Henry can\'t stop saliva from entering his lungs.
You and I swallow about a liter and a half of saliva unconsciously every day.
Lose your swallow, you will get pneumonia soon, pneumonia will kill people like cancer.
Henry\'s tracheal tube stopped him from talking, so I haven\'t heard him peeping for more than a year.
My wife recently came in crying and listened to the recording of his chatter before the diagnosis and surgery.
I recorded the impression his brothers had of Alan Patric, who was in the background, probably playing with the dishwasher and talking to himself with a fluent baby.
Oh my God, I want to hear him again.
Now he has a bubble.
His beautiful throat was opened with a handcuffed trachea to mute him.
The other day, when a nurse and a doctor took out his trachea open tube, I had to press him on the bed with my adult strength and the trachea cut tube was broken.
Because the scar tissue around the mouth of the mouth deteriorated and it bled like hell, I sucked blood from the hole in his throat while they were ready to put it in a replacement tube.
It was terrible, and Henry was startled and begged me to pick him up and take him away. But I didn’t.
I held him down.
The hole in his throat is about the same circumference as the bullet hole.
I have a pretty good idea of the nurse who had his trachea cut.
She was a colony of British territorial forces and served in Iraq and Afghanistan.
She also helped turn the greater Ormond Street Children\'s Hospital into a triage unit for adults on the day of the London bombings on July 7, 2005, which killed 52 people.
So even though I hate what she taught me to do with my beautiful baby boy\'s neck, I appreciate that she can convince me to get back to my head afterwards.
I know it\'s a bit of a sudden.
The above is part of a book proposal I put together before Henry\'s oncologist comes back and we know he will die.
I stopped writing when we saw the new bad MRI.
My wife and my brothers and I just want to be with him around the clock and make sure he has a good time in the last few months. And they were.
The reason I\'m taking this book out now is that the intended audience for this book is the parents of my sick child.
They always walk up and down the hall of the hospital like ghosts, and I want them to know that someone understands and cares about them.
I still want them to know this, so these pages are for them. Or for you.
But I can\'t write that book anymore, because the story of our family is different from the ending I hope.
Maybe I will write a different book in the future, but now when we grieve our beautiful Henry, my responsibility is for my family and myself.
Note: I wrote all of this except for the last paragraph of April or 2017.
In addition to Henry\'s name, I changed my name.
The cost of this article will be donated to Rainbow Trust: org. uk/latest-news/in-henrys-
Noah\'s Ark hospice center: Noah\'s Shaq hospice center. org. uk/in-henrys-
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