My youngest son left for camp on Monday. We felt victorious this year. He actually got on the bus to go! Last year he couldn’t attend because of a freak ice skating accident. While he was with me on the ice, he fell and broke his arm. That ended his foray into the exciting world of hemophilia camp; at least for 2016.
This year promised to be different. We didn’t dare get on the ice for a solid month before camp. Nothing would stop him from finally going and being part of a fantastic community. He was pumped up and ready to get on the bus with friends that he plays with every time there is a function for the bleeding disorder community. For a week these amazing folks planned to play and learn how to manage their care. No parents were allowed, but we all knew that they were safe and carefully guarded by a wonderful treatment team.
And then we got the call, the one you really don’t want to receive when your kid is away at camp. My boy climbed up a ladder to take a ride on a “zip” line. He looked down and immediately had second thoughts. He turned to go back down the stairs, this adventure could wait for another day. While he was climbing down in search of another road to travel, he lost his balance and fell down ten steps leading up to the “zip” line. Praise God, and I truly mean praise God, that our treatment team attends the camp. They were with him and constantly monitored his progress.
Meanwhile, back in Rio Rancho, my schedule was full. I had several hospital visits planned, followed by some much needed time in my office to write my sermon for Sunday. I looked forward to sitting down and getting some tasks accomplished. Then the phone rings. It is our wonderful hematologist, calling from camp to let us know about the accident. Dr. Abraham reviewed the medical plan with us and we informed her that we would be there as soon as possible. The medical facility nearest the camp was about a 3 1/2 hour drive from our home.
The day dramatically changed as planning and visits gave way to turning my attention to the needs of my family. My wife and I were anxious to see for ourselves the extent of my son’s injuries. We learned that he broke two bones in his left arm as a result of the fall and there were a few bruises on his face. We talked with the doctors at the regional clinic along with Dr. Abraham and took my son home. Camp could wait for another year. For now, our mission was to love on our son and help him heal both physically and emotionally.
This entire event served as a reminder to me that life can change on a dime, and when push comes to shove priorities must take over the best-laid plans. My focus changed from accomplishing tasks to helping heal hearts. My son needed to know that accidents happen and that the earth still rotates around the sun. He is loved beyond anything that he could ever imagine and that the one thing upon which he can always depend is the undying love of his mom and dad.