Under the Bed

     Somehow, we ended up spending most of the day under Kevin’s bed. I had been searching for something under his bed earlier in the morning and mentioned to Kevin that his bed, underneath, was pretty complicated with little motors and wires and stuff. Boy stuff! His response: “I want to see! . . . Can I see? His blue eyes begged--once again--for a glimpse at uncharted territory. How could I deny him?

     “You actually want to go under the bed?” I asked.
     “Yes,” he said through his trache as he blinked his eyes rapidly.
     “O . . . K,” I answered. 

     I raised his electric hospital bed as high as it would go. Then I put a pillow under the bed for his head. I made sure there was enough length on his ventilator tubing, then picked him up off the bed and laid him on the floor beneath his bed. He had everything he needed: air to breathe and something to do. While on my knees, I slowly lifted him back, further and further under his bed. His eyes became wide-eyed, as if he was viewing the Grand Canyon. This was new territory for Kevin.

     “This is fun,” Kevin said as the ventilator gave him breath to speak.

     “You are one funny boy,” I said as I accidentally bumped my head under the bed, trying to scoot beside him. Kevin laughed.

We laid on our backs for a while with our feet and legs sticking out from under the bed. We were closely checking things out. Then after a bit Kevin said: “Can we get tools?”