If you ever have the opportunity to walk around a children’s hospital and just observe whats happening around you, I think it’s a great idea. It does one thing for certain, it puts life into perspective. It makes you realize what you have to be thankful for and just how precious life is.
Listen to the conversations the parents are having, they’re talking about their children. They’re talking about when they get to go home, they’re talking about the rock star doctors that are saving the lives of their children. They’re talking about the nurses who seemingly love the children as if they are their own. The conversations are heavy and full of drama. Real life drama. They are comforting. As if your pain hurts a little less, because someone else is going thru it.
Whats even more inspiring is to listen to the conversations the kids are having. I often have to walk away from them talking because the conversations are so real, and painful that I am unable to stop the tears from falling from my eyes. They feel normal around each other, and I understand that feeling. I feel normal talking to their parents as well. Today Faith talked to an eight year old boy named AJ, a heart patient from Nebraska. They were exchanging their stats, how many trips to the OR, how many pumps they’re on, what meds, how long they’ve been NPO (noting by mouth),how many specialists they see, their doctors names, etc. When Faith looked at me and said, “Mom, whats my nephrologist name?” She was trying to get his name because AJ had kidney pain and his doctor didn’t believe him. Faith is 5. A five-year old shouldn’t be able to refer her 8-year-old friend to a doctor. But these kids can they all can.
Sometimes, I get really mad. I believe Faith has been admitted to the hospital 7 times this year. It seems like we are here all the time. Our life is interrupted. I can’t work, and take care of things I need to take care of. Things are falling apart. You lose touch with everyone, because your normal relationships are gone. It’s so frustrating. So, I too occasionally have to take a walk to gain perspective…one trip to the oncology floor, knocks me back into shape. There are kids up there who have been here a year, some even longer.
The recovery from this most recent surgery won’t be fast. She needs to start tolerating her feeds, and gaining weight. She has a long way to go, and once she gets there we have to go to Cincinnati. We may have to stay there for a while. This is a long, long road. Her surgeon told us at the beginning of all this, it would be. When I was little I hated long car rides, I would ask my parents all the time…are we there yet? My dad never answered, only my mom would…almost, Mary Ann. This seems like the longest, worst road trip, I’ve ever been on. My dad died last year, so now I just ask him….Dad are we there yet? Just for this one time I am certain he wishes he could answer.