Always Remember Me
The Story of Jedidiah Lusk
by
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Sunday February 14, 2010
"Eeeugh! Don't you think that looks like chicken poop?" asked eight year old Jedidiah , as he kneeled on the frozen February ground. His voice, though weary, was tinged with curiosity.
"Justin's roosters have been out running around the yard, but THAT is my own vomit."
"Okay!" I said as I scooped up my 68 pound son into my arms. "Now let's get you to the hospital."
I had been carrying Jedidiah from our house just moments earlier when he warned, "Two, four, six, eight, I think I've got to regurgitate...PUT ME DOWN NOW!" As I quickly lowered him to the ground.
"Blaugh!" went Jedidiah as he threw up for the fifth time that morning.
"Come on!" I stressed, "We've got to get you to the doctor!" As I heaved myself to my feet and carried Jedidiah to my waiting Subaru.
"Are you coming, Scott?" I yelled back to my husband who was just emerging from our house. "I am ready to go NOW!"
"But..." said Scott with a concerned look on his face, "We did not even get to open our Valentine's Day presents yet..." his voice trailed off as he opened the car door for me to put Jedidiah in the back seat of the running Subaru.
Jedidiah leaned weakly to the side while I connected his seatbelt. Just that morning I noticed how pale he looked, and it frightened me. But even scarier than his skin color, was the size of his pupils in the middle of his deep brown eyes. They were abnormally large in the light of day.
Scott got into the front right bucket seat while I slid into the driver's seat. I turned on the CD player and pushed Jedidiah's favorite CD in while accelerating down the quarter mile dirt driveway. We bounced over the rocks, splashed through a couple mud puddles, and came to a paved road. I turned the car left on to the county road while tossing a round plastic container to the back seat.
"Here, Jedidiah. In case you have to throw up again."
He looked at me in the rear-view mirrow with questioning eyes. "But don't you think my vomit REALLY DID look like chicken poop?" he persisted.
I slowed for the stop sigm at State Route Highway 70, looked both ways and made a right turn. "Okay, yeah," I breathed out. "So it looked kind of like chicken poop."
"Well, didn't you see how it was a little yellow and had some brown, but also had that watery clear stuff all around it? Jedidiah asked innocently.
Not in the mood to discuss the merits of chicken poop OR my son's vomit, I turned up the volume on the music CD. "Here, listen to the Kepple's. Your favorite song, 'Katie' is on next."
My mind was racing a mile a minute as I drove the 18 miles to the hospital, located in the nearest town of Quincy. "What could be wrong?" I silently screamed to myself, but wanting to yell out loud at the top of my lungs, WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BABY???"
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About the Book
How do you survive the hours and days living with the knowledge that your son is slowly dying from a glioblastoma multiformes brain tumor? How do you continue to share your love with family while attempting to enjoy the time of your life? Join Cynthia Lusk as she shares her story of the Lusk Family after their youngest child developed brain cancer.
As her husband, Scott, texted to his extended family, “The good news is: Jedidiah gets a make-a-wish! The bad news is: Jedidiah is eligible for a make-a-wish … Oh no!”
The family pulled together to show their support and love for Jedidiah; continued to honor God; and lived and loved through laughter, tears, and prayers on their eleven-month journey from Jedidiah’s diagnosis until his untimely death that came all too soon.
About the Author
Cynthia Lusk’s nine-year-old son, Jedidiah, developed a terminal brain tumor in 2010. Cynthia found the courage to write about her son’s experiences while embracing the boldness to celebrate their life left together. She and her husband, Scott, have been married for twenty-seven years and reside in rural Plumas County, Northern California.