Worth Saving

Worth

Saving

William Crews

ISBN 978-1-63525-890-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63575-453-7 (Digital)

Copyright © 2017 by William Crews

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

296 Chestnut Street

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 - Beginning

Chapter 2 - Hospital

Chapter 3 - Problems! Problems! Problems!

Chapter 4 - Starting School

Chapter 5 - Back in the Public School

Chapter 6 - Leaving Public School

Chapter 7 - Trouble! Problems!

Chapter 8 - Night Flight

Chapter 9 - Trouble! Trouble!

Chapter 10 - Denver the First Time

Chapter 11 - Decisions, Decisions

Chapter 12 - The Phone Call

Chapter 13 - The Costs

Chapter 14 - High School

Chapter 15 - County Special Day Class

Chapter 16 - SED Class: The Second Year of High School

Chapter 17 - Texas, Houston/Santa Barbara

Chapter 18 - Devereux, Texas

Chapter 19 - Group Homes in and around Los Angeles

Chapter 20 - Living in Paso Robles

About the Author

In loving memory of Linda Crews

Acknowledgments

For assistance rendered or favors conferred, I wish to express my sincere appreciation to the following:

To numerous people who have encouraged, prodded, and helped us with this undertaking. There are too many people to mention each individual; however, I have mentioned some individuals.

To Bruce and Mary Thomas, for their help prayers, and over the past years.

To Sarah, our loving daughter who lived it, and now with her husband, Mike, who contributes in many ways.

To Diane, Steven’s eighth-grade teacher. She was more than a teacher; she was a friend, who put her own career on the line for Steven.

To Dr. Owen, who gave much time in counseling to help us.

To my loving wife and mother of our two children; she has lived the ups and downs of Steven’s life and our family’s as only a mother and wife can. She worked harder and has done more than any other single person to save our son, and give him a normal life.

Last but not least, to our son. Only he knows the full extent of what he has been through.

Introduction

The children—wearing bright greens, reds, and plaids—filed into the classroom. There was excitement in the air as each noticed the new environment. Books, with their multiple colored bindings, lined the red bookshelves. Blue and white cassette tape players with headsets placed neatly on the table below the windows. Bright-colored flowers in the planter box. Plus the hamster in his cage highlighted the kindergarten room.

There was a long silence as Mrs. Little began telling each child where to sit and what to expect. Who could have foreseen the explosion of energy brewing like a short-fused stick of dynamite within Steven? Suddenly, he leaped over the neatly arranged tables and crawled under five tables as the other children scurried out of the way. Then with one last bound, he turned over a six-foot table, which hit Mrs. Little, and ran out into the hall. Shaken, disoriented, he slumped over like a bowl of Jell-O.

This hyper kinetic child with ADD (attention deficit disorder) was set up for failure. He also showed ED- (emotionally disturbed) and autism-like tendency. Positive or negative stimuli adversely affect ADD children the same. The new surroundings with all the bright colors, plus strangers, were all it took to set off Steven’s impulsive behavior.

How does a child develop ADD and emotional problems? When and how does the problem start? And how do a family—and a marriage—survive a special-needs child?

This is our story. Steven is our child.

Chapter 1

Beginning

It was a warm spring evening in Lodi, California, when I drove up the emergency entrance of the hospital. This is what Linda and I had been waiting for over the last nine months. We had been to the Lamaze natural-childbirth classes, and we were now ready to receive our first bundle of joy.

It seemed that all phases of our life were working together like a fine-tuned race car. I had finally graduated from college in December. In February, we moved to Lodi to launch my career with a firm I had interviewed with on campus. Our biggest problem had been money. My GI Bill had run out with two quarters of school left, so I worked part-time and took out a loan to finish school. Now these problems were fleeting like a spring cherry blossom.

While the nurse pushed my wife in the wheelchair down a long green corridor, I walked along at a brisk pace. As we entered the elevator, the clock on the wall said 8:00 p.m. Linda squeezed my hand as we rode up to the second floor. There, much tour dismay, we found all the labor rooms filled, and women on beds pushed out into the hall. It seemed that every pregnant woman in town had picked Thursday, April 8, 1976, to give birth. Every fifteen or twenty minutes someone was wheeled into one of two delivery rooms, all except for my wife.

I started to keep a rough estimate as to how often births would occur. I would glance at my watch whenever someone entered the delivery room, and then again when I saw either the doctor or husband come out of the room. Women were giving birth every twenty-five minutes for the first several hours.

Linda was in more pain now, and not dilating, so I lost interest in the other people. My concern grew as time went on. I began to worry if there were going to be any complications to either my wife or the baby.

After twenty-four hours of labor, plus IVs to induce labor and dilation, the doctor ordered a heart-monitoring machine to record both Linda’s heart rate and the unborn child’s. It had a screen display and a tape read-out. The monitor indicated there was no real danger to mother or child. But after twenty-four hours of labor, Linda was becoming irate; she wanted the medical staff to do something, anything. She told the nurse that she wanted to see the doctor now. Before the nurse could respond, Dr. Jack entered and announced that he was going to do a caesarean. He briefed Linda on the procedure, and then turned to me.

Mr. Crews, we are going to ask you to leave the room now while we prep your wife. You can see her before she goes down to surgery.

As I walked slowly down the hall to the tiny waiting room, many thoughts raced through my mind. What if? The same thought had been there earlier. I kept dismissing it. It is only because of the stress of the moment, I told myself, and I am very tired. What if? I did not want to finish this thought, yet I knew deep down inside that something was wrong. In the quiet of the waiting room, I opened my Bible and read one of my favorite scriptures:

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication With thanksgiving, let your requests be made know to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus.

I let my mind dwell on these words from Philippians, and then I asked the Lord to send His peace, the one that is beyond all human comprehension. The Lord is always faithful to His word, and once again, He gave me that peace.

There were one or two other people in the green-and-white waiting room. I paid little attention to them until a slight-built woman with graying hair and glasses came over and sat down in the chair next to mine.

Excuse me, sir, for interrupting. I just want to say that I am sure everything will be all right.

Thank you, I said. I appreciate those words."

All my life, I have found waiting to be hard. It always seems like an eternity having to wait in a grocery-store line. Now I was in this waiting room trying to be calm and patient. Each and every second seemed like hours and hours. The doctor said it would by about an hour, maybe less, and now I glanced at my watch, thinking maybe it had stopped.

The wait went on, and I read on in the Word, now and then speaking with the gray-haired lady. I prayed and praised the Lord and reassured myself that the doctors knew what they were doing. After all, there were three doctors involved: Linda’s obstetrician, the pediatrician, and a third doctor standing by. I realized how blessed we were to be in a place with much-expert medical help. The Lord is good. I had received the peace I prayed.

Mr. Crews! Mr. Crews! Dr. Jack’s voice jolted me out of my deep thought, and I bolted out of the small waiting room, almost knocking over doctor and baby.

You have a fine twenty-three-inch, eleven-pound baby boy. Your wife will be up from surgery in a few minutes.

Praise the Lord! Everything is working out okay, I said, relieved. Thank you, Doctor.

I will be checking on the baby and your wife in the morning. Now, Bill, you need to go home and get some sleep after seeing your wife.

He was right. I’d been up for about forty hours.

Chapter 2

Hospital

Early the next morning, the phone ringing awakened me. It was the doctor calling to tell me that our son was on oxygen but not to worry.

I dressed quickly and then raced to the hospital. Our baby lay in the nursery with an oxygen mask over his face. His breathing was shallow and labored. He would arch his back, crying, and try to remove the oxygen mask from his head, then lay still for a second or two and start over. I didn’t need the pediatrician or any of the other doctors to tell me how sick he was.

With a lump in my throat, I turned and crossed the hall to look out the second-story windows. The green and neatly manicured grass of the hospital grounds gave way to the rugged grass of the baseball diamond in the park.

I watched some children running and playing in the grass below. What will I tell Linda? She will want to know about the baby. I will tell her the truth, as always.

Mr. Crews.

I heard the voice of Dr. Jack.

Your son has several conditions: enlarged heart, Hylums membrane, jaundice, and other respiratory problems. The heart problem might be caused from the other respiratory problems. Often, one disorder in a baby leads to another. I will try to isolate and stabilize him.

What can be done for him? I asked.

I am going to insert a tube into his lungs through his mouth, Dr. Jack said. That should help him breathe better. Dr. C is in with your wife now. When he finishes his exam, you will be allowed to see her.

I thanked Dr. Jack for his concern and interest, and wondered again how I would tell Linda about our baby. It is interesting to me how doctors talk about a person, like he/she is a machine that needs fixing. It is their way of self-preservation when dealing with issues of life and death.

When I was allowed to see Linda, her first words were, How is the baby? Why won’t anyone talk about the baby? I haven’t seen him yet!

I know, I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. Later on today, you’ll be able to see him, dear.

Bill, how is the baby?

Well, dear, he is on oxygen, and they are going to insert a tube into his lungs.

They haven’t said, but you know doctors are.

Yeah, I’m not thinking too clearly, Linda said. And there is a lot of pain.

Why don’t you try to rest, and I’ll be out in the hall, I reassured her.

The hours dragged on. Every time I looked at the baby, he seemed the same. I wanted to go out in the park for a walk and sort everything out, but there was no time. The day was going by, hour by hour, just like any other day, except that my world was now upside down. How does a person wrap their mind around a traumatic life-and-death situation? When the person lying in the isolation unit in the nursery in the hospital less than twenty-four hours old and it is you’re firstborn. Visiting was limited with Linda by the doctor’s orders. All I could do was wait and wait, and look at my son through the nursery windows; occasionally, I was able to visit with my wife.

As the shadows grew longer and longer with the setting sun, I wondered what would be next.

Mr. Crews! I need to talk to you. The doctor joined me. The baby is not responding the manner we would like. I want to transport him to the UC Medical Center in Sacramento, where a whole team of specialists can tend to him.

What are his chances? I felt my heart pounding.

Let’s just say he is alive and has chances to make it, even though slim, the doctor replied.

You have some paperwork to sign. The office personnel will explain it to you.

As I walked down that long green corridor, I wondered again, what if? Don’t these walls know that my son is dying? What if he does pass on into eternity, will it matter to these green halls and empty doorways?

At the business office, a young woman with a pleasant face said, This will only take a couple of minutes. I am truly sorry about your son. I do hope he makes it.

For a few moments I was speechless. Thank you for your concern. I didn’t know what to think. What do you say at times like this?

After I completed the paperwork, I went back up to be with Linda.

Linda, I don’t know what to say or think. One part of my mind says, what if? Be prepared for the worst. The other part says, ‘Hope beyond hope.’

I know, Bill. Just keep on hoping, Linda said encouragingly. I want you to do something for me. Call Pastor Johnny in San Luis Obispo and have the church there pray. Oh, and call Ken and Nancy so they can pray with their church.

I agreed, but felt so helpless and detached from all this. It was almost like a film running in slow motion yet racing at full speed at the same time. If only there was something I could do to help either my wife or baby.

The team from UC Medical Center arrived—two doctors, a nurse, several technicians, and a driver of the special transport unit. They started working on Baby Boy Crews, as he was known. I watched through the glass of the nursery.

We have the baby almost ready to go, one of the doctors said, as he came out into the hall. I didn’t tell your wife how sick the baby is. We don’t expect him to live through the transport to Sacramento. If he does, the chances are he will be dead within twelve to twenty-four hours. I will call you hear at the hospital when we arrive at the hospital in Sacramento.

I am always at a loss for words when I need them most. But what could anyone say at a time like this? My mind and body were numb, my thoughts torn between baby and wife. Then I remembered: Be anxious for nothing.

Before the UC team left, a nurse wheeled Linda out into the hall, still hooked to IVs. This was the first time she had seen the baby, except for a brief moment in the delivery room some twenty-four to thirty hours earlier. Now, though concerned, she was not very rational because the doctors had her heavily sedated. She thought the baby as very quiet, yet she didn’t understand how sick he was. The doctor had told her that by transporting the baby to UC Medical Center we would have more insurance coverage, plus extended care.

Looking back, I wonder about the wisdom in not telling Linda the whole truth. I was thankful that the doctors had all been honest with me.

We watched as the UC team wheeled the baby, in its tiny isolation unit, to the waiting vehicle. I ran out to watch the van pull away. Then I came back in and pushed Linda back to her room, where the attendants helped her into bed. Since visiting hours were long over and the staff had asked me to leave, I said good night to Linda and returned to the small waiting room adjoining the nursery. I waited for the phone call from UCMedical Center.

Alone with my thoughts, I felt a new sense of helplessness. My mind traveled back to other times of trauma. I have had a motorcycle accident and several car accidents. I have had a motorcycle accident several car accidents, and there were several times when I should have been killed or in jail; however nothing compares to this moment in time. The only thing to do in times like this is to throw myself at the foot of the cross and cry out to the Risen Savior. Once again, He was there to give strength and courage.

Mr. Crews!

I looked up to see the night nurse.

Your baby has arrived in Sacramento all right.

I was relieved, yet realization that his fight for life was not over hung over me like a winter storm cloud.

By the next morning, Sunday, Baby Boy Crews was being lifted up in prayer by churches and countless friends and relatives throughout California and Colorado. Prayer works! It is not always in the way and time we want, but it works.

The doctor at UC Medical Center several weeks later told Linda that he had never seen such a turnaround in a baby.

Her answer: Praise the Lord, prayer workers.

The doctor was speechless.

Chapter 3

Problems! Problems! Problems!

Time marches on day by day, and with each day new and trying circumstances. Some we handle better than others. After a few months, things did not work out in Lodi, California. I was unemployed and searching for new employment day after day. This took its toll, along with a baby who had a TV tray full of medications, and he only sleep for a few hours a night. He would wake up screaming and want his bottle that second and then spit it all up the next. We had to sleep in shifts to give him his medications and feed him on demand.

He was allergic to all the different formulas the doctor tried. There was soybean milk. What a disaster. It smelled obtrudes, and when Steven would drink some, and then he would spit it out, the smell was horrible. The pediatrician was trying everything he knew to help this baby.

One day, Linda had the idea to mix syrup with canned evaporated milk, and see if Steven could hold it down. It lasted a little while longer before he vomited it all up. Out of desperation one evening, Linda heated up nonfat milk and put it into Steven" bottle. The results were great. He would drink a bottle of nonfat milk and hold it down. He started gaining weight and reacting more normally. His pediatrician concluded that he was allergic to animal fat. To this day, he does not like meat that is not lean and well-trimmed.

After several months, he started sleeping better and was taking less medication. This was a relief to us as parents. I had found a temporary employment in a foundry, and this helped us as a family. We started attending a church in Lodi, and Steven wanted to crawl and do things that older babies did. If he saw a toy he wanted, he would grab the carpet and try to pull it to himself. He would lie and scream until he received what he wanted.

Children are born with a mind of their own, it seems. Everyone who was around Steven would say, What a cute baby, and What a temper he has. You will have your hands full as parents as he grows older. That is an encouraging message to receive as parents.

There is no manual on how to raise children, and each child is different. What works with one often will not work with another. It seems that by the time we learn what we