A Birthday Party Incident That Tested My Resilience

As I lay at home battling an illness, news came that my toddler had been struck by a rattlesnake at a fairy-theme birthday gathering in Los Angeles.

My spouse, Mac, was accompanying our two kids when our young son collapsed on the lawn, tearfully pointing at his hand. Initially, Mac suspected a bee sting, which isn’t uncommon here. On closer inspection, however, a second bite mark was visible between his fingers.

Being there when your child is hurt often leads to immediate self-reproach — 'This is my fault; I was too slow. I should have foreseen it.' But when it happens in your absence, doubt festers — 'If I had been present, I might have stopped it. I might have scared the snake away with the props I keep beside band-aids and ointment.'

Mac hurried to Children's Hospital Los Angeles as I delicately juggled childcare for our elder one. Medical professionals, working with a top poison expert in the state, decided anti-venom was necessary for our son. It seemed ripped from a superhero story, except it was our reality, and the thought of him gaining powers was far from reassuring. This is when you're encouraged to hold on to optimism, even as his hand transformed from a swollen pink to a stiff gray.

As the effectiveness of the treatment was in question, I found myself spiraling through grim possibilities, landing upon memories of facing mortality in the past.

Reflections on Loss

The first intimate experience with loss came a decade earlier when I lost my mother.

Her departure at 67 baffled me. She was considerably younger than my father and had experienced a glittering life before parenthood. Unexpectedly expecting me at 39, she transitioned from the fashion world’s spotlight to raising a family.

I visited her following her initial heart crisis, but she rejected medical and dietary advice, frustrating me. Despite my pleas regarding her future presence at my wedding or as a grandmother, she craved only savory soup. Enraged, I shortened my visit to avoid witnessing her decline.

Before I departed, she asked, 'Will you not stay and hold my hand?' She succumbed weeks later from complications, and I returned just in time to be present in her final moments.

Lessons Learned from My Father's Passing

I vowed to do better when my father’s health failed three years afterward. His passing was more digestible; he was elderly and ailing with multiple conditions.

My father thrived on simple pleasures. A New Yorker raised in hard times, he found joy in sports and snacks, even as swallowing became difficult. I shared those moments, offering comfort with ice chips.

Expecting an opportunity to bid farewell, instead, I got an early morning call informing me of his death — a phrase as indifferent as if milk had spoiled.

Rethinking Priorities After the Snake Bite

Leading up to my son's encounter with the snake, we were hastily gearing up for a relocation. Decisions were made hurriedly, overshadowing what truly mattered until we found ourselves in the ICU.

Past misconceptions about my mother’s independent decisions had morphed into understanding. It was a long overdue realization that upheld a mutual dependence between us.

Madsen endured 21 anti-venom doses over three days, thankfully stabilizing. Upon seeing him, he uttered 'I got you!' echoing Mac's reassurance.

'You have me, too, buddy,' I replied, grasping his hand.