Sunday, August 8th

Today is Griffin's birthday, and I'm bound and determined that it won't be overshadowed by Jameson's illness or hospital stay. Doug and I got up early and took Darren to see Jameson. Jameson adores Darren and vice versa. I knew it would do him a world of good to see him baby brother and I was right. His eyes lit up when I pushed Darren's stroller into the room.

Evidently, none of the nurses were strong enough to carry Jameson to the bathroom the way Kevin had. They were afraid to lift him for fear of hurting him. I can see their point and obviously don't want him hurt, but.... why on earth don't they have someone on staff capable of lifting a 100 pound child? Jameson is not the biggest kid on earth, nor could he possibly be the only one there with this issue. Because of this, they had to put Jameson in a diaper. This was as sad a turn of events as any so far. Here was Jameson, making all this physical progress, yet suffering a setback, emotionally.  I hated the thought of him, nearly 12 years old wearing a diaper because no one could help him to the bathroom. Luckily, they soon came up with the idea of wheeling a portable commode into the room, so he could go in a somewhat normal fashion. Not quite like normal, but substantially more dignified.

We visited with Jameson until the baby got restless and bored, and Jameson wanted to take a nap. When I got home, I sent out some emails to some of Jameson's friends (through his Facebook page). I wanted to let them know what happened and ask them to please keep him in their thoughts and prayers. One girl, Cate, wrote back right away and said she would pray for Jameson and asked me to keep her informed. One friend, however, wasn't nearly as considerate. I realize this boy and Jameson have had their issues and had basically ended their friendship. I had hoped, however, that difference could be put aside and this child would be sympathetic to the seriousness of this illness - if not for Jameson, then for heaven's sake, for his poor mother!

Instead, I received the following reply:

"Don't take this personally, but I don't care. I don't like Jameson. He was mean 2 me for 5 months."

That child was lucky he wasn't standing in front of me as he said it, or there would be two eleven year olds in the area who couldn't walk. My blood boiled as I wrote back, telling him that this was a serious situation and that there was a possibility Jameson might never walk again. I told him I had hoped he was mature enough to care, but that I was wrong. He only wrote back with a frowny face. I let it drop even though what I really wanted to do was throttle him.