04 Down the Rabbit Hole: What Ifs

We take pictures of our children’s photo album worthy moments.

• Blowing out the candles of each child’s first, third, seventh, ninth (how is it her fifteenth?) birthday cake.

• Our daughter, Sofia, when she was five years old, at her first Nutcracker performance, bursting out from under Mother Ginger’s gargantuan umbrella-like dress, with the other tiny pre-ballerina dancers, dressed as pink and blue bon-bons. 

• My wife takes pictures of me taking a nap, with my kids Sofia, Xander and Kai napping beside, no, on top of... okay beside and on top and all over me. She thinks we are cutest when we are sleeping, tranquil, the kids adorable and me — as adorable-adjacent as a middle aged dad can be.

• There are pictures of us asleep on the bed, on a couch, a lounge chair, splayed on a beach blanket on a lawn, somewhere.

The images I most desperately wish had been captured are all of one day — July 26, 2023. If there was a way to put in a request to the universe, and capture cosmically generated images of that day,

I would ask for…

• Pictures of Xander’s last swim lesson, our piggyback dives together into the deep end of the pool.

• his performance in the ensemble of Matilda, his pants were so big that he had to keep pulling them up.

• Xander and I reading The Little Mermaid. Not the Disney version, the classic, as told in The Land of Fairytales. This is  our last book together.

• Mama Jane giving him a kiss and a hug as she tucks him in, as they recount the fun they’d had all day, at the swimming pool, on stage in Matilda. She tells him that, “Today was a good day and tomorrow will be even better.” 

Being that we couldn’t know the significance of this day, with its blindsiding finality, this never happened. And if we did know, if there had been a premonition, a reason to believe that Xander’s last day had arrived, we wouldn’t idly be documenting its most meaningful moments for posterity. We would act with resolve, with Sarah Connor in Terminator 2 intensity, to rewrite the future. In the absence of this, we are left with the “What ifs?”.

*****

For Jane and I, the theories about the sudden unexplained death of our son, Xander, fall into two categories. The first consists of other people’s smorgasbord of unsolicited ideas about Xander’s death. These run the gamut of good intentions, religious platitudes, conspiracy theories, Dr. Google’s medical diagnoses, and yes, even paranormal explanations, all of which Jane and I would take in and try not to think too much about them in the moment. Later on, we would revisit and dissect them, classifying their words as anything from well-meaning but annoying (if we were feeling generous), to a steaming kettle of crackpot bullshit. 

            The second category consisted of our ideas.  The coroner’s report concluded that the official cause of Xander’s death is undetermined — we will never know what happened. As his parents, never knowing is unacceptable so we try to figure it out anyway. The problem is trying to make sense of a sudden unexplained death of a nine-year-old is like trying to assemble a puzzle in which none of the pieces fit. So we generate absurdist, irrational, pseudo-scientific, guilt ridden theories, continuously tearing these puzzle pieces apart and reassembling them into a myriad of bizarro what-if scenarios. String these together, and they read like the world’s most morbidly convoluted Choose Your Own Adventure book. In which there would be death by…

•       Drinking fentanyl laced Gatorade from another student’s water bottle at the dance studio, yet somehow the other student remained unaffected and survived or…

•       Outdoor pesticides seeping into Xander’s room…

•       A spider bite from an undiscovered black widow’s web, under his bed…

•       a rare water amoeba sucked in through the nose, leading to an extremely rare but lethal brain infection…

•       The sudden onset of the flu or RSV, with symptoms that dramatically escalated overnight…

•       A mixture of Windex and Clorox with bleach, which created a poisonous cloud not unlike mustard gas…

•       Undetected black mold proliferating in the bedroom walls, breathed in from the air conditioner vents…

•       or maybe black mold released in the shower…

•       or the hantavirus from the rats or squirrels that sometimes sneak into our vents and attic or…

•       too many people said it was part of God’s plan…

•       or that he is now our angel, soaking up eternal bliss…

•       or he was smothered in his sleep by his favorite squishmallow, which would mean death by snuggling??

•       one person said that maybe he died of a broken heart (like Queen Amidala). Is that really a thing? And why was was his heart broken?

•       one person asked, did we ever consider that maybe he was killed in his sleep by a demon…

•       one person suggested he might be a guardian angel, rather than basking in eternal bliss, helping people in their darkest moment. If this is true, it’s a hell of burden to be forced upon a nine-year-old newbie angel, who would rather be nerding out over the mythical creatures he always dreamed of meeting.

•       I can’t remember who the fuck suggested death by demon.

*****

“Maybe Xander died of Covid,” Jane said.

“Covid? He wasn’t sick, not visibly. Was he?”

“He asked for tissue on the way to the theater. His nose was stuffed up,” Jane said.

“I didn’t notice. Was it bad?”

“No. He was just a little gooey, with a lot of energy on stage, but maybe, I don’t know, overnight it got worse or maybe long Covid? I’ve been reading a lot about how researchers don’t know all the effects of long Covid,” Jane said.

“No. The infection would have shown up in the autopsy report,”

“You’re right,” Jane said.

“But you know what annoys me?”

“What?” Jane said.

 Those parents who were like, “I don’t want to spread conspiracy theories but there was this

random internet bro wearing a lab coat, (therefore one must accept that he’s a doctor) and…

have you considered that maybe it was the vaccine?”

“Yes because the Covid-19 vaccine he had no odd reaction to, two years ago, just got around to

killing him like, like…” Jane said.

“Like Final Destination.”

“You’re stupid.”

“I try.”

“You know what my parents think?” Jane said.

“I have no clue what your parents think.”

“They have this theory about your crooked thumb and how it increased the odds of Xander having a malformed heart…” Jane said.

“Whaat!?”

“There is this thing called heart hand syndrome, and the connection to Xander is ridiculous, I mean out of curiosity I looked it up and it’s fucking weird, there is all this stuff about oddly fused collarbones, tiny hands or unusually long fingers,  but they nevertheless formulated a theory that this is why he died, which would mean that Xander either had a hole between his heart chambers or abnormal electrical impulses coursing through and disrupting its beat,” Jane said.

“Ooh, that’s so strange, now I’ve got to look it up.”

“I can share it, I saved the link,” Jane said.

“Cool. I know the autopsy report shows it wasn’t his normal sized and shaped heart, but I keep circling back to — what if it was a stroke? Only that would have shown up on the autopsy report too, like an aneurism. Is a stroke the same thing as an aneurism?”

“I think they are somehow different, but I can’t explain how. I’m not a doctor,” Jane said, “How about childhood diabetes?”

 “I was thinking that too, but the paramedics said his blood sugar level was normal. The way they were talking about it, seemed to be screening it out,” I said,   “But even so — maybe?”

“Right?! His sudden weight gain? Xander was 83 pounds at his last doctor’s visit. He put on 20 pounds in one year,” Jane said.

“I could tell he was heavier but honestly until this happened… I wasn’t too worried. A lot of boys get pudgy at that age, and I thought Xander was due for a growth spurt. I thought I could keep taking him swimming to get more exercise in a fun way. Xander had so much fun at the pool, we had so much fun,” I said.

“I know, he took to the water like a spinner dolphin,” Jane said.

 “Spinner dolphins were his favorite!”

            “He made me save YouTube videos,” Jane said.

             “And he also liked the pink freshwater ones that live in the Nile,”

            “The Amazon,” Jane said

            “I meant Amazon.”

            “Of course you did. On some days after his swim lesson, we would spend 30 minutes at the lesson and another hour or two at the family pool. He would always ask to get popsicles when we were done,” Jane said.

“For us it was strawberry, pineapple and banana smoothies. He’d always mix in the spirulina booster to turn it blue.” 

“Is three hours too long?” Jane said.

“Three hours of what?”

“Of baking in the sun in the pool every day, in the middle of summer.” Jane said.

“No. I used to do that as a kid. The water cooled him down.” 

“That’s what worries me. Maybe it’s why he didn’t realize he was dehydrated,” Jane said.

 “We were only in the pool for an hour and a half when you picked him up and then you took him for refreshments.  What if he was hyperhydrated? Like maybe he accidentally gulped in a couple of gallons of pool water and no one noticed. I googled it and drinking way too much water can cause water intoxication, which can swell your brain,” I said. “Only some of the symptoms like nausea, lightheadedness, aren’t these symptoms for dehydration too? If so, how can we tell the two conditions apart?”

“I don’t know. I’m still not a doctor.”

*****

          Jane has told me that she sometimes circles back to a moment on that final evening of July 26th, when Xander climbed into her chair to hug her and sit on her lap. A big boy who still liked to cuddle up like a little guy. Only this time Xander jabbed his elbow awkwardly, painfully, into her ribs. So Jane yelped in pain, pushed him off and told him not to sit on her. It was nothing, a gut reflex but in the wake of his death, it triggered a tsunami of mom guilt. What if she shoved him too hard and hurt him? What if Xander believed she was telling him to get off her because she didn’t love him? Or that as the middle child, she loved him third best after our firstborn, Sofia and the baby, Kai? And why didn’t she insist that Xander drink a glass of water before going to bed?! If he was dehydrated, wouldn’t that have made the difference? Surely he would still be alive. I assure Jane that Xander knew that she loved him as much as her siblings and that there was zero chance that she dealt a death inducing shove to him, and that the assessment by the firefighters, the nurses, the doctors, and maybe even just by our casual observation of Xander’s demeanor, we could rule out dehydration.

“I know,” Jane said, “but I still can’t get the idea that he was dehydrated out of my mind. Does that make me crazy?”

I tell Jane that she is not.

*****

Do you want to hear my crazy?

That last night with Xander, we broke our routine. Mostly, I read to Xander is his room but that night I was tired, and becoming drowsier by the moment. But I still wanted to read together with Xander, so I asked him to pick out a book and bring it to my room which he did, and asI recounted in more detail before, we read together in my bed and conversed afterward. I could have taken Xander to his room and tucked him in, but I was feeling so lethargic now that I welcomed it when Jane offered to do so. This is normal.  It would have been a non-issue on any other night but I can’t help but thinking what if as in the movie Sliding Doors, a small seemingly inconsequential decision created an alternate reality — what if I had forced myself to

get up and I read to Xander in his room?

In both realities we would read from the same book, read the same story, have same

conversation, everything would run parallel until it didn’t. I imagine myself immersed in the moment. I notice that Xander’s eyes are closed and he has started to breathe quietly, steadily. 

So I sit up but as I try to leave Xander mumbles, “Daddy, could you hug me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course little guy.”

  So I wrap one arm around him and lie there as his breathing becomes even more rhythmically silent. Mine does too. Is Xander asleep now? Probably. My eyelids are heavy too, so I shut them for just a moment. I told myself, I’ll rest my eyes and get up in just a moment. I fell asleep too.  This is the Sliding Doors moment that makes all of the difference.

I wake up at 3:09am to what I believe to be a small earthquake, my half asleep mind wondering if I need to wake up or if it will pass. Only I feel Xander’s arm trembling, his entire body convulsing. My adrenaline spikes and I pop up, shaking his shoulders.

“Wake up little guy, wake up!”

 Only he won’t snap out of it, so I yell out, “Jane! Jane!! Jane!!!”

 I don’t know if she’s awake yet, but I know that every second counts, so I pick Xander up and place him on the floor. He’s not breathing but he has stopped convulsing. I tell myself that the not convulsing is a good thing, because I can do CPR. Am I supposed to search for a pulse first?

No. The most important thing is to just start. In First Aid class I remember you do chest compressions to the tempo of the old disco song, Stayin’ Alive. One hundred and four compressions per minute if you do them consecutively but he’s not breathing. I know I have to breathe for him,  and I can’t remember if it’s twenty or thirty, so I do twenty compressions and then, I tilt his head up and give him two breaths and watch his chest rise. I do twenty-five more compressions again, and I tilt his head up and give him two breathes and watch his chest rise again.

Count through the set, breathe, start over, repeat!

You’d think it would be less stressful in this imaginary scenario but it’s not. I’m still panicked, it still takes me a minute to realize I should call out to Jane again. Only it turns out I don’t have to. She heard me the first time. She came to Xander’s room and yelled something to me the first time. I don’t know what she said.  It doesn’t matter, because I have tuned all distractions out. I am focused. My adrenaline is pumping as I perform CPR. I think to myself.

Count through the set, breathe, start over, repeat!

As I continue CPR, Jane is a boss. She calls 911 and gives them our address, informs them about the situation. She takes Sofia out of the room so that she doesn’t have to see her brother like this, and puts her in our bedroom with our dog, Riley. Jane tasks Sofia with petting Riley to give something for Sofia to focus on, to calm them both down and shuts the door.  Then she checks in on me and I am still administering CPR to Xander.

Count through the set, breathe, start over, repeat!

Jane goes to wait for help. The firefighters arrive first, so quickly, four minutes or less. She opens the door for the paramedics and signals them, waving her hands wildly and calling to them, so that not a moment is wasted. The firefighters rush across our lawn and through our front door.

Jane directs them down the hallway to Xander’s room. I am still performing CPR.

Count through the set, breathe, start over, repeat!

The firefighters are in Xander’s room now. They ask me to step aside and move into position. The first firefighter checks Xander’s pulse. The second asks me if I know how long ago this happened. I tell them it was just a few minutes ago, I know this because I fell asleep in his bed.

I woke up because I felt Xander convulsing. The first firefighter tells me it’s lucky I fell asleep beside him. They hook Xander up to a defibrillator, and like they do on every medical show, firefighter two yells, “Clear!” They shock Xander’s heart and… one and done, his heart is already beating. The paramedics arrive. They hoist Xander onto a stretcher, and load him onto the ambulance, where they administer oxygen and IV fluids and they can use a defibrillator again

if necessary.  Before they go, the first firefighter pulls us aside and tells us that he’s checked in

on Xander, and he knows it was quite a scare for us, but… “Don’t worry, your son is going to be okay.”

I tell Jane that I am going to gather his favorite books, (his stuffy) Cougar, a pillow, a blanket and drive to the hospital. I plan on being there when Xander wakes up. I am going to stay with him overnight. Sleep on a chair in his hospital room, the floor, whatever. Jane says she will drop the kids off with their grandparents and if everything is stable. Jane makes promise to update me when I arrive at the hospital, so that I can assure her that everything is stable, she will pick up some drinks and snacks so that we can settle in and wait. She expects it will be a long day, and she is going to stay until the evening. She promised Sofia she would pick her up from grandma’s house after dinner. Jane says she will return in the morning. I tell her it’s a good plan

and in this Sliding Doors alternate reality…

The doctor’s tell us that Xander is stable but sleeping. They are moving him to a private room as we speak and he needs to rest but we can see him once he’s settled into the room. We go to see Xander as soon as we can and he is still sleeping. I hold his hand, kiss him on the forward and tell him, “I love you little guy.” Jane hugs him, kisses him and tells him she loves him too. He doesn’t wake up but he smiles. That is good enough for us. We know he will be okay. All is well.

Only it didn’t go this way.

Maybe a little, but not at all.