This past week we had been on vacation. It was to be a road trip of sorts and one of the stops was to visit with my parents who at 88 years of age were celebrating 56 years of marriage.
It didn't turn out the way we planned and in fact we had quite a scare.
I have been on the other side of medicine a few times in my life. It always gives me an appreciation of what patients feel when they have to give up total control to someone else, who literally has your health and in some cases your life in their hands. Nothing can prepare you, however for what we as parents went through when our little boy became so sick that he wound up being admitted to the hospital for the first time.
During my internship in general surgery and my residency in neurosurgery, I never liked pediatrics. It wasn't that I didn't like children but dealing with anxious parents was ten times, no one hundred times worse than dealing with adult patients or even their families Of course at that time in my life, I could care less about the 'feelings' of my patients or their families. I considered it extraneous to becoming 'the most talented neurosurgeon on the planet'! In retrospect, it is ironic that I have come to realize that allaying the fears and anxieties of my patients and their families, often times, from a spiritual perspective is even more important than what my hands can accomplish.
So, I was keenly aware of the difficulty of being a pediatrician but it wasn't until this past week that I came to fully appreciate how important the care they provide truly is. Of course without the nurses and physician assistants that surround them, their job would be next to impossible. I say this because not only did they have to get our boy well, they also had to, and this is the hardest part, calm my wife and me down and convince us that they would do just that.
Upon arriving to Connecticut, Michael was feeling fine. That night after dinner, however he developed a fever. I didn't have a thermometer at the time but experience told me his temperature was certainly over 101 degrees. I began administering Tylenol every few hours or so but his fever didn't seem to break. The next day he only seemed to get worse and he began to develop severe gastrointestinal symptoms along with nausea and vomiting. Not only could I not get any Tylenol in him but because he would not drink any fluids, he was becoming dehydrated too. When his temperature hit 105, I knew it was time to go to the hospital.
On arrival to St. Mary's Hospital, I told the woman at the desk what the problem was and she immediately rushed us back. The nurse took his temperature and fortunately it was down to 103. They immediately got him a bed in the pediatric section of the Emergency Room and within a short period of time a seasoned nurse came back and effortlessly got an IV in his arm and drew blood for the necessary lab tests. I knew he was sick because he hardly put up a fight even when he saw the nurse coming with the IV needle and tubing in her hands.
Soon the pediatric ER doctor came back and told us they suspected he might have appendicitis. The thought of our little boy having surgery began to raise our anxieties and my blood pressure. 'That just couldn't be', I thought. 'His abdomen was so soft without any of the signs of an inflamed appendix'. But after all, I was just the dad who happened to be a neurosurgeon, not the pediatric surgeon. So we waited.
Soon, the surgeon, Dr Zarif came in and examined him. He impressed me as experienced and his demeanor was calm and comforting. He looked at us and told us he did not believe Michael had appendicitis but that he would need to be admitted for intravenous hydration and continued observation. We were somewhat relieved but still concerned because our boy was still so sick. Fortunately, it just so happened the pediatric floor of the hospital was actually owned and staffed by Connecticut Children’s Hospital.
Our worries however were far from over. I spent the next two nights helping to take care of Michael, getting up every one or two hours helping him get to the bathroom as I navigated his IV pole and then washed him afterwards. It was a though he was an infant all over again completely dependent on my wife and I for his care .
By the following morning as a result of the frequent trips to the bathroom along with the occasional episode of vomiting, he began to experience abdominal pain. Dr. Zarif still did not believe he had appendicitis but rather a severe form of gastroenteritis and colitis. So he consulted a pediatrician, Dr. Jennifer Gannon, who was in contact with the pediatric gastroenterologist in Hartford, Connecticut.
Soon we were also told that Michael also had blood present in his urine which could represent a complication of the gastroenteritis, called hemolytic uremic syndrome. Quick research on my part revealed this syndrome could result in kidney failure and in worst cases, heart failure, or coma. And because many of the more effective pain medications could increase the likelihood of this potentially life threatening complication, the doctors and nurses were unable to use anything stronger than Tylenol.
It was agonizing for us. There was nothing we could do to make him feel better and it seemed that there was nothing the medical staff could do to either. We just had to wait it out.
On the second day of our hospitalization, I picked up a publication of the Connecticut Children’s Medical Center, called ‘Pediatric Matters’. It told a story of a 7-year-old boy who survived an illness much more severe than our son’s. As a result he was selected as a ‘Champion Child’ to represent the medical center as part of the ‘Children’s Miracle Network’ program designed to raise awareness of the specialized health care and research supported by the Children’s Miracle Network and its affiliated hospitals, like the Connecticut Children’s Medical Center.
I have to admit I was a bit sleep deprived when I read this but the use of the word ‘miracle’ struck me. The story did not mention faith, religion or prayer but to me the implication was clear. What we could do for our boy was to pray. Not that we would have ever considered not praying, but the urgency of our prayer was never more certain to me in that moment.
And not that our prayers would be any less important to God than the next person, but I do believe that the more people who pray for you the more meaningful the prayer is. And that is the interesting thing about Facebook. As a social media it allows people to communicate across the world to friends and strangers alike, though much of the information is often pointless. However, in this situation… in this crisis we found ourselves in, instead, it became a network of people who not only passed along their thoughts and concern but also prayed for us. I have to admit, however, this was not my observation but that of my wife, Stacy, once again reminding me that I don’t know everything.
We also found it comforting to be near my mother. She has always been a deeply religious and prayerful person. In fact she initially entered the convent before deciding that her true vocation would be to raise a family. Recently I needed her prayers and she was there for me and now she was there to pray for our son.
On the fourth day of our hospitalization, the staff was getting prepared to transfer Michael to the main hospital campus in Hartford for a colonoscopy and biopsy as the diagnosis was in doubt. That afternoon the third and final culture returned positive for Salmonella (the first two were negative) so the transfer would not be necessary. And almost as soon as we were told the results Michael became well. His temperature became normal, his abdominal pain subsided and he wanted to eat. The following day he was discharged and by the looks of him you would never know he had ever been so sick.
So our thanks go out to our family and friends for their prayers, and to Dr. Zarif and Dr. Gannon and all the nurses and physician assistants for their part in our little miracle.
‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’
Matthew 21:22
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