I held a tiny patient at work today. In spite of tremendous
obstacles, he’s here. He’s alive. His parents are thrilled, but anxious. They
have no idea what it’s like to be parents, let alone parents of a child with
special needs. Having only done this for a week, their eyes are already showing
the strain of multiple doctor appointments, special instructions... changes.
For some reason, I’m feeling emotional, and all I want is to
hug the mom and tell her the thing you’re never supposed to tell anyone: that
it’s going to be okay. But, I don’t know
if it will be okay. In fact, I know as well as she does that these kiddos may
live extraordinary lives, continually overcoming obstacles and giving joy to
all who cross their path, until one day. One day, it’s time, and they go home.
I guess you can’t let your mind go there. I guess you look
at each day and do the best you can. I guess you celebrate every milestone… I
guess? In reality, I have no idea how these courageous parents and children do
it. And what about the siblings who patiently endure those same doctor
appointments, special instructions, and changes—from the “passenger” side? How
do they do it?
There’s been a lot of talk about healthcare lately. With
good reason, politicians, professionals, and constituents are
wondering what the future holds. As a student, I can’t help but wonder. What
does my future look like? What role will therapists, doctors, nurses, and aides
take under the new plan? Will job markets grow or shrink? But, I guess I’m not going
there.
The truth is I owe my life to children’s hospitals. I have
the scars to prove that someone fought for my life. I also have the parents
who, never predicting that their firstborn would be so sick, still get
teary-eyed when they see pictures or talk about the trauma of life with a
critically ill infant. Maybe that’s why I feel so overwhelmed as I hold this
little baby and talk with his mom and dad. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I can’t help
but relate to their fears and pains. The choice to love and care for another in
the face of uncertainty IS scary. It IS a risk because as cliché as it might
sound, tomorrow is not promised.
So, if you want to know what I think about healthcare, I’ll
tell you. No matter your role, patient, provider, passenger, there is risk.
You’ll face uncertainty, success and loss, but as I hold this tiny life, I’ve
never been more sure of anything. It’s worth it.
