THE TUNNEL is a concept that my friend Dave P., a former colleague and long time friend told me about. This was many years ago.
We had been living in Vancouver for about a couple of years when Alex was born. I considered, and still consider, Dave to be an expert on parenting. (Dave is an expert on many things but for the purposes of this discussion it was about parenting.) My take on this was no doubt influenced by the fact that at one point we had one child that was (?) a month or three or so old but Dave and his lovely wife S had three children. And the eldest was three. He had my attention!
Dave was out on business from Toronto , probably 12 years ago I guess and came to the house for dinner and gave the newbie dad a lot of pointers. For instance, he showed me a great way to burp Alex which was to prop him up on your knee, place your thumb and index finger under the two armpits and then lift up to stretch the back, almost lift them up off the knee you stretch them so much. With the other hand, you pat them on the back. Guaranteed burping.
Worked like a charm. (They are very small at this stage, then they grow quickly and you can't do it any more unless you have huge hands.)
Dave inspected our TV room and pronounced it perfect for early weekend mornings once Alex would be at a crawling stage. They get up really early, he explained. Like at 5 or 6 and they're wide awake. And because you have been "relaxing" at work all week, it's your turn to get up on the weekends. So he's wide awake and you on the other hand, went to bed at one after maybe a glass too many of red wine.
Here's what you do, he said, and demonstrated by lying on his side across the width of the doorway, facing in. You lie here on your side and doze as best you can. This room is totally baby-proofed so he can come to no harm, sprinkle the toys and things out, turn on Teletubbies, whatever. The only thing that can go wrong is if he gets out of the room, but you, as the human baby gate, will be woken up by him trying to climb over you. Pure genius I thought.
Worked like a charm.
Dave also told us three or four years later about "hockey manners". You see, he explained, we raise these kids to be nice, not to be aggressive and to share - "now let Timmy have a turn with the toy" etc. and then we want them to play hockey and that doesn't work so well. So, Dave told his kids now you have to have "hockey manners." Hockey manners are like Backwards Day. In hockey, you do the opposite of what you normally do. So if Timmy has the puck, you don't wait until he has had his turn and is finished, no, you go and take the puck away from Timmy. Hard. See, that's hockey manners! At age four this is useful.
But I think Dave's greatest insight into parenting (and he has many good ones) is The Tunnel. I hope I do this justice but as I recall Dave explains the tunnel along the following lines. Your first child is born and you descend into this all encompassing, one dimensional tunnel. You know you are moving forward but the concept of light at the end of the tunnel seems too far off to be real. You are changing diapers, trying to set a a nap time routine, are on non-stop demand to entertain, clean, feed, water, clean again, feed, clean twice in a row, sleep (what's that?). Of course when there is a little light, slowly seen in the horizon, you have a second child, start all over again, you're still in the tunnel but now you have two kids to look after and on it goes...
If you have kids, you know exactly what Dave's talking about. Dave has defined the length of the tunnel as lasting from the first child's birth until the youngest child is just getting out of diapers. Then, Dave says, you come back out into the light and things get easier. You notice, years later, these strange two or three year gaps in your knowledge of popular culture. For the two to three to four years you are in the tunnel (depending on how many kids and how far apart they are born) you have no knowledge of what the top movies or songs or TV shows were or who won the Super Bowl. You were just too busy, life was one dimensional and if you had any free time, you were going to sleep.
It's very different in a lot of ways (having kids is a good thing for example!) but I think going through treatment for A.L.L. is a series of tunnels. Sort of like being on a train and going through a mountain range. Lots of tunnels. One dimensional and all encompassing. In this phase of Alex's treatment, we have been going to the hospital on Wednesdays for treatments (see previous posts) and then back Thursday, Friday and Saturday. They have been fairly dark days. Getting out of bed is a drag. There is little eating or drinking. We get concerned that it appears nothing has been eaten or drunk in 24 hours, now 36. There's a lot of nausea. There's some vomiting. That all comes with the territory but there's an overriding fear of dehydration setting in. The days spent on the couch watching endless TV that drove me crazy a few weeks ago, now seem like something to aspire to.
We're in The Tunnel.
You fight it as much as you can and in someways it's fascinating to observe one's own behaviour. Dan C gave me Dan Ariely's book "Predictably Irrational". It's a great book and we were interested in it from an investor's and manager's point of view but it's a great read for anyone. Bottom line is we behave irrationally, even when we should, or even do, know better. Like you know you're in The Tunnel but you read Ken Bruen novels and stay up late anyway and listen to cheerful songs like Johnny singing Kris Kristofferon's Sunday Morning Coming Down. I'd like some angst please. Or maybe it is rational, maybe we cope the way we can. Is it wallowing? I like to think not, I'm pretty sure it's not, (it's a lot of work if it is for one thing) but maybe, could be
But tunnels end. On Saturday, after a rough couple of days, we headed back to the hospital. Groundhog Day. (Do groundhogs have tunnels?) I was wondering whether Alex was a bit dehydrated and might well need some fluids. He had been whacked hard and mathematically we were also getting to the point where he might need a blood transfusion. Transfusions take a long time to administer so we didn't know if this would be a quick trip or an hours long affair. Alex fights the nausea like hell but riding in a car and knowing you're going back for more of what's making you feel sick doesn't make it any easier. We had increased and tweaked the anti-nausea medications. Would it make a difference? We were feeling pretty beaten down Saturday morning but ... a little light? Alex was green and fighting but wasn't sick on the way in. The regular clinic is closed on weekends so on Saturdays we go up to the ward where in-patients stay and they give you your chemo there - and take a blood sample. Getting the chemo takes seconds but then we have to wait for thirty to sixty minutes for the blood work results to see whether a transfusion is needed. His blood pressure was actually quite good so he`s not very dehydrated, okay, that`s good.
I can feel our mood lightening. It`s interesting, even though one knows all this ahead of time, the fact that it`s our last day, that we`re done for a few days, one still feels this sense of relief. Predictably irrational. The blood work comes back and it`s good, quite good actually. We can go!
We`re climbing out of the tunnel. Alex say he wants a Slushie.
What?
I think this chemical concoction is abhorrent but I haven`t seen him drink anything in thirty six hours save for a few sips of water to take the endless pills. We stop at the 7-11 at Oak and Broadway. What`s the biggest size slushie there is? Let`s get that. What's that? You want some Doritos too? No problem, Dude.
What?
I think this chemical concoction is abhorrent but I haven`t seen him drink anything in thirty six hours save for a few sips of water to take the endless pills. We stop at the 7-11 at Oak and Broadway. What`s the biggest size slushie there is? Let`s get that. What's that? You want some Doritos too? No problem, Dude.
I'm quite sure that if you had asked me some time ago if I would let one of my children have a bucket-sized Slushie and a bag of Doritos as their first meal in three days, hell, even let them have a Slushie and Doritos at any time, I would have laughed at you. And, unlike the previous three days, when we drove home, after throwing up maybe, Alex would head immediately to bed, not wanting anything, just curled up feeling like crap, when we got home on Saturday he wanted to be on the couch with the Slushie and the Doritos and the Simpsons. Two months ago, I would have told you this type of behaviour was leading to the decline of western civilization; on Saturday, I was happy. And I know that it was silly to feel that way, but I did.
