Reruns

This is the article that I wrote for the News and Record that won't ever get printed. I've been away on a business trip riding roller coasters and drinking beer. A new update is coming soon.

Matt

I find probability to be comforting. Whenever the TV news has a feature on some exotic new threat to our well being, I worry about it for the duration of the broadcast and then realize that the chances of getting bit by a shark, or carjacked, or shot by Dick Cheney are so small that any gambler would bet their next paycheck that it wouldn’t happen to me.

When our son, Isaac, arrived eight months ago, I applied the same concept to his well being. I know bad things are going to happen to him, but the chances of him getting stuck with a used syringe in a “ball pit” are pretty slim. I should focus more attention on keeping him from eating dog food.

By the time he was six months old, my wife and I felt pretty confident in our parenting skills. We split household and baby duties evenly. I bathed Isaac at night and Nancy dressed and fed him in the morning. We even managed to find time for exercise and the occasional “date night”. We had everything under control.

Near the end of Isaac’s six month pediatrician visit, Nancy and I listened to the doctor’s summary of Isaac’s medical status. Everything looked fine except for his head, which had a flat spot. The doctor suggested that we go and see a plastic surgeon in either Chapel Hill or Winston-Salem. Isaac would probably have to wear a helmet for 24 hours a day until his head rounded out. If the helmet didn’t work, they would have to break the bones in the skull to fix it.

As he spoke, I imagined an agonizing four hour wait in a hospital while unknown surgeons broke my son’s perfect head in an operating room down the hall. I thought of my friend’s nephew who has had extensive cranial surgery and how hard it has been for their family. I was nauseous.

We made the trip to Baptist Hospital and found the correct office in Janeway Tower. The technicians took the three of us into a room and scanned Isaac’s head with a laser. The 3-D model that the computer created looked perfectly round to me. Later Dr. Argenta, the surgeon came in and explained to us why Isaac needed to wear his helmet for about four to six months. I had hoped that the doctor would come in, say “Isaac’s head is fine. The pediatrician was just being overly cautious.”

Isaac got his new helmet. It was Carolina blue (my first problem with it), and looked like a football helmet with the top sliced off. Isaac didn’t even seem to notice that it was on.

Nancy and I walked silently to the car. We sat in the parking garage for a while, and I could tell that she was about to cry. I asked her what she was thinking and she said, “When people look at Isaac, they used to think , ‘What a cute baby!’ Now the first thing they will think is ‘What is wrong with that baby?”.

I suggested that we buy some stickers and write across the front of the helmet a profanity laced phrase which aggressively poses the question, “What are you looking at?”

Nancy couldn’t help but laugh when she wanted to cry.

Nancy was right. People did stare. We overheard children tell their parents “Look at that baby with a helmet”, and then felt sheepish as the mortified parent apologized to us. Some adults would stare at Isaac and then look away quickly when I’d try to make eye contact with them.

That night over pizza and beer, Nancy and I came up with a long list of phrases for Isaac’s helmet. Most were over the top and for our own amusement, but one stuck with us. Later that night, Nancy used orange and blue stickers to write the phrase “Ask me About my Flat Spot” on the helmet.

Isaac went back to Baptist hospital for his two month follow up last week. He is still going to have to wear his helmet for at least another two months. I was a little disappointed, but I can handle it. We have seen several other little tykes wearing the helmets, and we always stop and chat with the other parents.

We still occasionally get a strange look, or awkward comment, but we take it in stride. The odds are, those people have never seen a baby wearing such a cool helmet.

Strength and Honor,
Big Matt