Changing seasons that bring recollections and rejuvenation

It felt like fall all of last week here in the North Carolina mountains. Each year, crisp temperatures, crystal skies, and a hint of changing colors rejuvenate me, reminding me why fall is my favorite season.

On the flip side, a mere taste of this spectacular time of year also unleashes myriad memories on a whim. I can get teary at seemingly nothing.

Our grandson, James, started first grade last week. With the exception of an “emotional” (his word) nosebleed on the way to school one morning, his week was good. I remembered our son Matthew coming to me days before his own first grade year began. With a tear streaming down his face, our smart, conscientious firstborn announced that he wasn’t going to first grade. When I asked why, he replied that there would be no fun in first grade.

It didn’t take a super sleuth to figure it out. His kindergarten teacher had addressed the constant disruptive antics of a few students by saying, “You won’t be able to get away with that in first grade!” Matthew, a dream student, envisioned balls and chains for all first graders. When he spied dinosaurs and Legos in his new classroom instead, he opted to give it a try.

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School memories

Helen’s grandchildren, Clara and James, happily embark on a new school year. (Photo by Helen Baldwin)

We moved to our old farmhouse and new schools in the middle of the 1995-1996 school year. Our daughter, Katie, an animated delight, was placed with the perfect first grade teacher, a local theater actress. Because there was already another Katie in the class, our Katie was asked to go by “Katherine.” She didn’t grumble too loudly about all the extra letters in her name, although she promptly gave “Kate” a try in the second grade. That lasted a year.

Clara, our granddaughter, started third grade this year. She loves school and was pumped as usual, especially when she learned which friends were in her class.

I remember snippets from my own third grade year. By then, annex buildings had been moved onto the former playing fields right across the street from our house. Mrs. Kenna’s third grade classroom was in an annex. I loved my teachers, and Mrs. Kenna was no exception. As one who followed directions almost obsessively, I quietly approached her desk with a queasy stomach one day and asked if I could go to the bathroom — right as I threw up on her.

The rule for emergency bathroom trips — “JUST GO!” — was established in my honor that day.

A much-appreciated routine

Jeffrey’s siblings, Katie and Matthew, were always uncertain about leaving Jeffrey for school. Jeffrey apparently wasn’t happy they were leaving! The photo was taken in 1997. (Photo by Helen Baldwin)

In early August 1997, Matthew entered sixth grade and Katie started third. Our baby, Jeffrey, almost 3 months old, was three weeks past a diagnosis of SMA type 1. My husband, Randy, and I regrouped as hastily as possible from hearing the prognosis that Jeffrey likely wouldn’t be with us long.

Our focus had necessarily been on finding something — anything — to thwart the devastating progression of the killer disease, so the joys of summer had understandably been sparse at best.

Consequently, the beginning of school that year brought a much-needed glimmer of normalcy to Matthew and Katie. Their wonderfully caring teachers (actually, the school’s entire faculty and staff were) understood the upcoming unique challenges that would affect us all, including them.

Matthew worried that something would happen to Jeffrey while he was at school and asked every day how we would let him know. Katie, with her bubbly, take-charge personality, explained SMA to the school counselor and anyone else who would listen. Neither could wait to check on their adoring baby brother every afternoon.

SMA and ‘life’ team up to make August memorable

While Matthew and Katie were safe in school with friends and a routine, SMA and life in general continued hammering at us in one way or another.

The car battery died at Walmart after an appointment for Jeffrey down the mountain. Trekking with Jeffrey’s car seat in the suffocating heat all the way back to the automative department, then back to the car so they could check the battery, then back inside so they could install a new battery, was no fun. However, I did give thanks that Walmart had an automative department, a battery, and a technician.

That month included the toppling over of a corner house post (Randy had wisely propped it up with a two-by-four). The slug on the kitchen table may as well have been a snake. At the suggestion of Jeffrey’s doctor, I dropped saline drops into his nose to help with congestion. Jeffrey’s terrifying sputtering, commencing immediately, had me wondering if that was the end. If not, would the end be that horrific? More prayers.

That August was the month I lost any remaining confidence in determining whether a crisis or near-crisis was connected to SMA or not. It was, however, also the month I met the perfect friend — a fellow SMA mama — just as our house was falling apart.

So long, August memories. Make way for September.

Note: SMA News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of SMA News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to spinal muscular atrophy.