Chronology of a Nightmare

• December 5, 2013 - After a long night of excruciating pain, Jennifer (my wife) learns that she is going to require high-risk surgery in the ensuing weeks (her 16th abdominal surgery since we've been married)
• December 6, 2013 - Jennifer's birthday
• December 11, 2013 - Jacob (our 8 year old son) seems ill with flu-like symptoms and stays home from school
• December 12, 2013 - Jacob suffers a massive stroke
• December 14, 2013 - Jacob is rushed into surgery for an emergency crainiectomy to relieve some of the pressure on his brainstem being caused by the swelling in his brain
• December 15, 2013 (morning) - We are informed that Jacob's stroke has now spread to the entire left hemisphere of his brain and that his brainstem is also being damaged
• December 15, 2013 (evening) - Our beautiful little boy dies in his mother's arms
• December 19, 2013 - Jacob's funeral
• December 20, 2013 - The U.S. Department of State publishes an alert on their website (http://adoption.state.gov) announcing that the Democratic Republic of Congo (or more specifically, the Congolese Minister of Justice, Minister of Interior and Security, and the General Direction of Migration (DGM)) intended to continue the suspension on exit permits for adopted Congolese children seeking to depart the country with their adoptive parents.  This meant that although a portion of the DRC government had declared Joseph and Bronson legally ours months earlier, another portion of the government would not allow them to leave the country.  The announcement went on to state that the DRC did not intend to lift the suspension for at least a year.
• December 25, 2013 - Christmas Day.  Joseph's "faith" that he will be home with us before Christmas (as expressed in his letter to his "Mum") is unrewarded.  Instead of giving Joseph and Bronson fun presents to open, we are simply left to hope that they have food to eat today. Rather than seeing Jacob's face light up at the sight of his Christmas presents, we deliver them to his grave.
• January 1, 2014 - We do the best we can to "welcome" the New Year
• January 2, 2014 - We meet with the specialist surgeon that Jennifer's regular doctor/surgeon referred us to in order to discuss her needed surgery.  (Her regular surgeon indicated that the risk and complexity of her case were beyond his skill set and referred her to a surgeon who is the head of his department at Huntsman.)
• January 6, 2014 - We meet with an additional specialist surgeon (referred by the doctor at Huntsman) who is going to assist with Jennifer's surgery by performing the laparotomy and dealing with the complications associated with her surgical history
• January 30, 2014 (afternoon) - I kiss Jennifer goodbye as she is wheeled back into surgery--surrounded by the all-too-familiar smells, sights, and sounds that accompanied Jacob when he was wheeled back for his surgery the previous month (the moment that would prove to be the last time that we would ever hear our son speak to us in this lifetime).  As soon as Jennifer is wheeled out of sight, I quickly make my way to a bathroom, lock myself in, and crumple in a balling mess.
• January 30, 2014 (evening) - I standby watching helplessly as my wife cries out in pain for hour after terrible hour.  For nearly seven hours, medical professionals attempt to get her pain and nausea under control with medications that her body is completely unresponsive to.

I have come to accept the reality that I am never going to wake up and discover that Jacob's death was just a horrible nightmare. But even if I can't undo what I have already experienced or make it all go away, I would certainly like my storyline to have a little more "Sandman" and a little less "Pitch Black".