Austin Lewter/Jefferson Jimplecute
For me, the end of the year serves as a time for reflection.
I think back to holidays passed and wonder just where the time has gone.
I marvel at how my children have turned into teenagers right before my eyes.
I remember the holidays with loved ones who are no longer with us.
I think about Jennifer and I’s first Christmases as a couple and am stunned at how far we have come.
Our first Christmas was spent in a Dallas hospital.
Our son Jackson was born in October 2007.
He was a tiny preemie with a list of complications— many about which I’ve written here previously.
By December, he was still in the NICU at Medical City Children’s Hospital.
We had no way of knowing at the time that he wouldn’t come home until early May 2008.
It was the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve 2007 when Jackson developed yet another complication.
Doctors detected a septic pocket in the joint of his right shoulder.
They said surgery was warranted, but there was a problem.
We were told there were only two pediatric orthopedic surgeons at Medical City.
One of whom was on vacation and the other was not taking any new cases because he was covering his own patients as well as those of the first while he was on vacation.
Instead of bringing an outside doctor to us, they had to move us across town to another hospital.
We weren’t excited about a new place. It was stressful.
After two months in a hospital, you get used to things.
You get used to the people. It is all familiar. It is home.
Uprooting and moving across town made no sense.
Why couldn’t they just bring a doctor to us?
The move was an all-day ordeal.
Preemies require special ambulances and non-emergency transports aren’t always the swiftest of priorities.
Later that evening, we found ourselves at Children’s Medical Center near downtown.
Getting admitted was even more stressful.
New nurses. New surroundings. New uncertainty. The promise of another surgery. Another new doctor.
By the time 10 p.m. rolled around, we had yet to be consulted by a surgeon.
I asked the nurse when we could expect to meet someone.
“Oh, I’m sure someone will be by in the morning,” she said. “This isn’t an emergency case, so the on-call surgeon will work their way around tomorrow.”
“So, we don’t have a plan for this surgery?” I asked.
“Right now, no,” she said. “That will be up to the surgeon in the morning.”
“No, it’ll be up to the surgeon tonight,” I said.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“We are going to see a surgeon tonight,” I said. “Apparently this was a big enough emergency that we had to come here from the other side of town. Apparently the doctors at Medical City couldn’t handle it. We’ve been here for six hours and have yet to meet anyone with a medical degree. We are going to see a surgeon tonight. By midnight— within the next two hours— we are going see a surgeon and have a plan in place.”
She didn’t argue and must have relayed our insistence because Dr. Daniel Sucato walked in the room about an hour later.
He said he was the pediatric orthopedist on-call and he was glad to meet us.
He looked Jackson over and confirmed that pocket needed to be drained.
It would require surgery but there was no need to open him up right then.
The procedure was scheduled for first thing the next morning.
We spent the week there and returned to Medical City very early in 2008.
We soon discovered Dr. Sucato was the head of pediatric orthopedic surgery at the Texas Scottish Rite Hospital (TSRH) where Jackson was later admitted to for follow up care.
The TSRH provides all services free of charge.
Because we were moved across town.
Because we insisted on seeing a surgeon that night.
Because Dr. Sucato was on call until midnight.
Jackson was accepted to the Scottish Rite and much of our financial concern was laid to rest.
Our questions were answered.
Why did we have to move across town and go through all the trouble?
To meet Dr. Sucato— that’s why. Had we not, everything else would not have fallen into place.
It was not coincidence. It was all part of the plan.
So, over the past 14 years, we have maintained regular appointments at the Scottish Rite.
Dr. Sucato has tracked Jackson’s growth.
During that time, we in lived Marion, Cass and Grayson Counties.
No matter where we were, we’d make the drive to Dallas for appointments.
We’d always make a day of it.
Jackson anticipated visiting the “bone doctor” because it usually meant the day was dedicated to him and involved eating lunch out somewhere and other fun things along the way.
One year, we were there on New Year’s Eve and ran into the Texas A&M Aggie football team.
They were in town for a bowl game and stopped off to visit with TSRH patients beforehand.
On Monday, Jackson and I headed south for another visit with Dr. Sucato.
We left early and did some Christmas shopping.
We then enjoyed lunch and video games at Dave & Busters.
Later that afternoon, after 14 years of x-rays and assessments, Dr. Sucato pronounced, “This kid looks great! There is no reason to come back unless you develop any future concerns.”
Hearing this news was bittersweet—all the memories of our trips to the “bone doctor.”
The time we spent together.
The way we tried to make them special days.
The memory of that first Christmas and how our sick three-pound preemie has grown into a healthy 14 year-old young man.
How time flies and just how very blessed we’ve been.
We’ve been blessed by Daniel Sucato and the Scottish Rite and so many more people over the years.
In many ways, hearing Dr. Dan say we were “good to go” is the end of an era.
But, more than anything, it was the best Christmas gift a Mom and Dad could receive.
Austin Lewter is the co-publisher and editor of The Jefferson Jimplecute. He can be reached at jeffersonjimplecute@gmail.com