Have you ever gone from feeling relatively good, happy, content to suddenly dragging your chin on the ground?  Some people mistakenly label that as “bipolar”, a term better reserved for an actual mental illness that should be diagnosed by a professional.  Not sure I technically qualify as bipolar…

This morning got off to a pretty good start, with the exception of my slightly sore throat and hoarse voice after overdoing it a bit at last night’s Roadrunners game.  I was thinking about friends, about music, about holiday gifts…and then I got an email:

“Your marker is done.  I’ll let you know when it’s delivered.  It could be this week.”

One email.  Three short sentences.  Happiness fades as reality intrudes.  Instead of thinking about happy things, my mind is drawn back into Micah’s grave, almost literally.

The next step was almost worse.  I am not one of those that draws any pleasure out of other people’s pain.  I don’t harbor ill will towards others as a general rule.  I try not to hold grudges.

So, I noticed that the Roadrunners had a press conference this morning regarding team captain Craig Cunningham–a conference that he himself attended–in street clothes.  Awake, alert, looking relatively healthy and normal.  One month ago, Craig collapsed to the ice right before the opening faceoff of the November 19th home game between the Roadrunners and the Manitoba Moose.  Things looked very bleak, especially over the first 48 to 72 hours.  I heard a description of his condition that, frankly, gave me flashbacks to Thursday night, January 14th and Friday, January 15th.  Descriptions of Craig’s condition that were almost identical to what the doctors told us about Micah shortly before he died.  To see Craig sitting up, taking questions, looking as good as he looked…

I am incredibly happy for Craig, his mother, his family, all our Roadrunners fans, and everyone else that loves him in-and-outside of hockey.  It’s an incredible tale of perseverance and courage, medical advances and ingenuity, that Craig is with us today.  But all of this brings up a question–as I listened to Craig’s condition and the radical procedure they used to basically save his life, I can’t help but wonder…if those doctors had been treating Micah, might Micah still be here?  If someone had told me that there was a radical, experimental treatment that might save his life, might we still be lighting four menorahs on Saturday night instead of three?

Please understand, this isn’t about Craig Cunningham.  I am thrilled that he has recovered to the point where they’re discussing discharge from the hospital in the very near future.  I want to see him back on his feet and doing what he loves, and that thought will normally make me very happy.  But after having my mind pulled into the grave, hearing that there might have been a procedure that just maybe could have saved Micah’s life…

Yes, I know.  It’s too late now.  I can’t spend my life in regret over a decision that I was not able to make–about a treatment that I was not aware of.  Who knows if, even if the procedure had been known to me, if it could have actually been useful in Micah’s situation.  Considering how Micah got to his condition and how Cunningham got to his were two very different paths, this treatment would not likely have worked.  But just the thought, with my mood already sliding downhill…

It’s going to be a long afternoon…

 

David

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