18th Day of Lent
In which there was the best haircut ever.
Plastic mindfulness count:
- #1 bottle of apple juice (I needed juice!)
- plastic package, unlabeled, covering two sticks of spicy beef jerky (I was weak)
- paraffin wax candle for a memorial service
- my son's face.
Let me explain. When my boy, my sweet baby, was about 3 months old, I saw his eyes were wrong; he couldn't look at me while nursing anymore. Actually, his face was wrong, but it was hard to put a finger on how, unless you looked at him in a mirror, and realized how hard your own mind was working to force the illusion of symmetry. It took five doctors later, and well over another year, before he got a diagnosis of craniosynostenosis. This is fancy talk for "his skull ain't growing in one quarter," particularly the right side of his forehead; the coronal suture, which runs a bit at an angle over the right eye, was fused shut, and couldn't grow. The brain grew anyway, even though his face couldn't, bulging at all the other seams. They had to do skull surgery--make that brain surgery--on my baby. He was about 18 months old at the time.
The surgery was in two parts, both requiring a careful hand to separate the skull from the dura mater, the covering of the brain. Actually, it tore, and it took another skillful hand an additonal two hours to fix it, bringing the total surgical time to 6 hours. But I didn't know it till it was done anyway. They took a strip of bone from ear to ear, but the scary part to me was this: they took out his forehead.
They took out his forehead, cut it into pieces, shaped them back together with 'plastic plates' and put it back above his eyes. It was terrifying. I pray you never experience that form of helplessness in your whole life, but if you do, you can survive it. I found him asleep in the ICU, a huge bandage wrapped around his head and his eyes swollen shut for days. He looked like he'd been in a prize fight--and lost.
But after he woke up, he was still my same little boy. Only now, he learned to run. His vocabulary jumped from 20 words to 200 almost overnight. He stopped having headaches for which he had no name, because he'd lived with headaches his whole life. He grew, thank God, he grew.
His forehead was held together by some magic 'plastic', which slowly re-absorbed into his body as the bone reformed and grew back. In the months that he healed, his forehead went from slightly bruised, to sort of flat, to downright hilarious--riddled with perfectly formed and paired HORNS.
Yep. My now-two year old son grew horns, in each symmetrical place where a resorbable plate --or perhaps rather, the screw, was affixed. As each was reabsorbed by the body, water broke apart the chains of the poly(lactide-co-glycolide) into smaller, weaker pieces. The smaller bits were then--brace yourself for science!--phagocytized (ingested and digested by cells of the
body) into lactic and glycolic acids, which were then eliminated through body metabolism in the form of water and co2, without toxic tissue accumulation. I stole this bit from a web site, but it just restates what I was told by the masterful, brilliant surgeon Dr. Honibier (pronounced "Honeybear").
While I found these horns rather funny, impish boy that he is, it was somewhat disconcerting for people who didn't know the whole story...not to mention that this pastor's son quite literally behaved like a little demon sometimes, complete with pointed, perfect protrusions patently paired like the Devil's. And since some people have NO sense of humor, I kept his hair styled with full, fabulous, Justin Bieber-esque bangs from that time until now.
Earlier today, he got his first 'real' haircut, like a little boy should have, spiky and free and not worried about scars or horns. No, really, it's his first REAL cut, with lots of hair missing and clippers and the whole nine yards. I didn't save a lock of hair because I didn't want it. I was so DONE with the idea that I'd need to hide any part of this beautiful kid. His ziggy-zag scar will only be visible decades from now, when he goes bald like his father, and his forehead is smooth and flat and fine.
It is the best haircut ever.
Kid through time: follow the line of his right cheek (your right, not his right) up and you can see the skull compensating for a lack of elasticity on the other side. You can also see the wide left eye (his right eye) that never gained definition because it couldn't grow. He basically didn't have an eyebrow bone. Still pretty cute though, and with a permanent look of "O really?"
I think it's ok that I don't have a picture of the incision or scar; it was pretty wicked.
oooh, but he's a cutie. wookitthosechubbycheeks! Rock those Justin Bieber Bangs.
And there he is. Happy and healthy and whole. No horns either!
Does Jesus care?
Considering how he gave away free healthcare to everyone who asked and a whole bunch of grabby folk who just took it (see the Sermon on the plain, Luke 6), I'd say YES. We've got a lot of explaining to do about environmental toxins, but one place we've correctly captured the divine creative spark is in the medical field; may more people have access to life saving, life altering health care. It is a human right, not a privilege. God Bless resorbable plastic screws and plates. I can think of nothing negative to say about any of them.
I am so grateful. Thank God for the doctors, the nurses, the scientists, the technicians, the sales rep and the delivery guy, every one who has any part in the making and installation of these plastic items into holy human bodies, images of the divine. They have restored to wholeness that which nature permitted to be wonky. Thank you.
Best. haircut. Evar.
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