If your son Conan Boon dies, it’s your fault; what?

If your son Conan Boon dies, it’s your fault; what? I enjoy producing videos about life and my family’s daily dealings with Kato and Conan growing up. It’s joyful, and it gives life a purpose. These are strange times, especially when our son Conan Boon was born in the middle of a pandemic. It was appropriate to name him Conan because of that covid situation, and he is a survivor.

The month of February has been a weird month for the KatoBoonFamily. In the last week before the month-end, a person who sometimes helped on our farm got a heart attack. He was 37 and did not survive R.I.P. The ambulance transported him away from our farm. This tragic event was an omen for things to come as one day later, a pig miscarriage and not one piglet survived. The same day another mother pig died during pregnancy, and we had to remove the dead pigs from the stable. The old pick-up would do the trick, now carrying a dead pig of 100+ kilo upon a pick-up truck is heavy-duty. I did film the scene when the pig was in the car, but it’s just not a scene I would broadcast to the world. It just does not feel right. You start doubting yourself, is it maybe all your fault for this lousy string of events?

Bad Omen

If you thought the wrong day was over, you are in for a surprise. The truck got hit by a massive truck on the corner of the road two minutes from our farm. Car wrecked, Rak’s mom’s boyfriend was not injured but shocked, dead pig bleeding on the middle of a busy road.

We rushed Baby Conan to the hospital.

Then it’s about five oçlock. I hear my girlfriend screaming Bas, Bas, your son Conan, Conan. She is carrying a none responsive baby, Conan, whose eyes all turned white. I can’t believe what I am seeing. We rushed to the hospital, a 5-minute drive from where we live. I drove like a race car driver Jos Verstappen and reached the hospital in less than 2 minutes. Rak’s niece told us what had happened during the race to the hospital. She carried baby Conan from one house to another till he started to shiver, and then his eyes became white, rolling into the back of his head. Some family members had the flu for a few days (maybe Kato brought back the flu from school?).

Conan cried more than usual, and we had to clear his nose a few times. He had a fever when the niece of Rak took him for the little walk; the blanket and the heat outside possibly gave my son Conan a heatstroke (high fever). I informed the doctors, and they started getting buckets of ice and towels to bring little Conan’s temperature down. Conan got an oxidant mask and intravenous drip on the spot. It’s heartbreaking and awful to see the sheer panic and amount of nurses and doctors bowed over a seven-month-old baby. You start thinking maybe it’s your fault, that you did something wrong.

A car ride from hell.

I put the air conditioning high in the car, blowing the cold air directly to Conan’s head. The cold air helped as you could see his eyes slowly returning to their normal position.
So for one hour, they kept the baby cooling down with cold, wet towels till things improved. The doctors asked permission to do a lumbar puncture to check for bacteria in the brain. As I was unsure of my overheated high fever theory diagnosis, I agreed with Rak to have the doctors do the test. The worst thing to see is when your 7-month baby suffers like this, not knowing about permanent damage or if he has a severe infection or he possibly could die. Still, little voices are roaring in your head, thinking it’s your fault.

Is Papa Bas about to lose his cool in the hospital?

My son Conan Boon had to stay in the hospital. By now, they were giving him antibiotics (I guessed) and kept monitoring him for his temperature. Mama Rak stays with him in the hospital while I care for Kato at home. The next day I communicated with Rak and visited the hospital multiple times. She is in a room with 40 other patients with babies and children. I can see it’s taking a toll on her, and the baby’s symptoms do not seem to improve. Using a wet towel, making the bed wet, and having no air conditioning or ventilation with always screaming kids in your surroundings cause a sleepless night for mama Rak, and I assumed Conan did not sleep much.

I asked for information, and they told me the Doctor would come at 9 in the evenings, so I waited. I did not sleep much, so I kept walking around with baby Conan in my arms, maneuvering between 40 hospital beds so Rak could get some much-needed sleep. The Doctor did arrive at 9 in the evening. He was a young, short, and skinny guy wearing a mask with some glasses.

I asked the Doctor in English if I could take my son home, and he said no, without telling me anything about the test results. It is obvious he was not even up to date on my baby’s case as other patience and family surrounded him, bombarding him with questions.
I was starting to lose my cool. The place feels riddled with negativity, disease, and suffering, and it’s too hot.

The Doctor meets the old Bas.

I tried to manage my tempers and anger over the last decade. During my active years in the fight business, I was blunt, loud, aggressive, and bulling my way through life. I left this turbulent life behind, moved to Thailand, visited temples, and found peace.

Unfortunately, the Doctor produced the wrong words and sentences, which made the old me rise again. I asked for the third time to Doctor; please let me take my son Conan Boon home. I informed the Doctor my house has several air-conditioned rooms. It’s peaceful; Conan can sleep and heal. I have a thermometer and can check his temperature. If I bring him home and his condition worsens, I will get him back to the hospital. I also pointed out that I would gladly pay for a hospital room with air conditioning, but he answered the V.I.P. rooms were full, while 5 meters from where I walked, there was a free bed in a room with air conditioning with three patients.

Wrong answer.

His answer and tone are wrong answer. It triggers the deep, embedded suppressed anger I worked to control for so long. It releases the Kraken.
Conan cried; other babies cried, parents with no sleep, too hot, and nasty energy ingredients.
The Doctor said: if you bring your kid home, deny our treatment, and I will not treat him when you get him back to the hospital? Whatttttt??? Then he said he was willing to transport the baby with an ambulance to Udon (90) min drive. This place and Doctor reminded me of a Stephen King Hospital Tv series, “Kingdom Hospital.”

My house was 2 min from the hospital. I protested and said I would take my son and girlfriend home now. He could have let it rest there, but he had to say the following: If the baby dies at home, it is your fault!

If the baby dies, it’s your fault. The Doctor got a B.B. special.

The Doctor was in for treatment, a mental one, that is. When the doctors ended his sentence with “it’s your fault when he dies,” Papa Bas responded: with a loudly screaming old fashion bully voice (verbal diarrhea came out of my mouth like a waterfall): You fucking little Joseph Mengele, who the fuck do you think you are? Let’s turn things around. You swamp creep: Are you responsible when the baby dies in your infected overheated deceased shithole? We should both do what is best for your son Conan Boon; instead, you want to play God and play the blame game.

You fucking goblin, orc, inbreed piece of crap, I could not help myself anymore; it was out, the darkness and horror somewhere deep inside of me. By now, everybody was watching the “farang” (which means foreigner in Thai), security was called it became a spectacle, with my girlfriend’s baby and tons of other babies crying.

A decision against the Doctor’s advice, Conan comes home.

I will sign the release form. My son is coming with me. Some nurses showed me some documents where I had to sign, and I did. I put a massive cross over the whole paper, choked in my autograph, yelled, and screwed this concentration camp. I took my baby and girlfriend out of this nightmare place. The Doctor retreated. He found his match, and I am sure he had never experienced this.
I tried to calm my girlfriend down. I know she did not sleep and was at her wit’s end.

Automatic pilot.

I start running on adrenaline and no signs of fatigue in miles (even with no sleep the night before.
When I got home, I put on the air-conditioner; everybody was happy Conan was back. We put a massive mattress in the living room for my son Conan Boon and his mother to sleep. Things were going well (all were sleeping finally) for almost one hour till Kato decided he wanted to turn on the lights and throw his toys around, waking up everybody again. Not the best timing, but Kato is Kato. There is also too much risk Rak would fall asleep, so I let her sleep.

It forced me to stay awake, watching my son for 9 hours till the morning, cooling him down with cold towels and an ice pack, measuring his temperature every hour (playing with Kato for three hours before he went to sleep). I kept thinking about that doctor’s words, “it’s your fault.” The next day, Conan’s fever was gone when everybody woke up, laughing and playing around. One day later, I kept checking his temperature; he was back being the old Conan like nothing ever happened. Rak was still concerned as Conan still had diarrhea, but I assured her this was from all the hospital’s medicine and no rest.

My gut feeling.

I told her to breastfeed him as soon as antibiotics or whatever they gave him were out of his system. He will shit normal, precisely what happens the next day, a nice full diaper with the usual message. Now I feel like doctor Boon. All the Thais (family friends, neighbors) call me now, Dr. Boon. First, they spoke about phi (ghosts in Thailand) because of all the wrong things. I said no phi, deal with the problem, and things will improve.

How to deal With difficult situations?

There was a split second in my mind with a voice telling me not to take home my son Conan Boon because; what if he died and some doctor said in front of my girlfriend and many witnesses it is your fault.? As always, I followed my instincts (called some experts) and friends and made the decision. It was the right decision. I have often dealt with death and tragedy; it’s just part of life.

The secret is how you deal with it and in what way. I did not film any of this tragic event (the next day, mama Rak took some pictures in the hospital). It’s nice to make a reality KatoBoonFamily YouTube series, but my camera is the last thing I think about when it’s life or death. Stay positive, people, deal with whatever comes before you and don’t be a sheep. Here is a link to another tragic event in my life and how I dealt with it. Never let anybody tell you it’s your fault.

We Lost a Child Because of an Imperfect Umbilical Cord.

https://basboon.com/we-lost-a-child-because-of-an-imperfect-umbilical-cord/

(c) Bas Boon www.katoboonfamily.com