Three Minutes

Despite my current and regrettably prolonged single status, I do have one special guy in my life who brings me incredible joy. Tall, dark, handsome, and Prince Charming? Not quite. However, my six-year-old cousin Nicholas has just learned to read his first "big kid" book, is proud of himself for learning to recite the 23rd psalm at school, loves to help his Nanny by taking out the garbage, checking the mail, and picking up sticks in the yard, and for the past two weeks has been determined to catch a bumble bee to keep in his bug jar. While I'm not sure how that bee-catching experiment will quite work out, my little buddy, who has called me "Shell" since the day he could talk, tugs on my heart-strings more times than I can count and is a skinned-knee, brown-haired reminder of how resilient children are, how well they can adapt to change, and if we let them, can provide us with some of life's greatest lessons. I can honestly say that I love that little guy more than I ever thought possible, and I definitely think he's helping me to fine-tune those "Mommy" instincts for some of my own little ones down the road (and I do mean WAY down the road).


Nicholas absolutely loves to go to school. He is quite convinced that Kindergarten was made especially for him as was recess. However, due to an ADHD diagnosis  and not quite having yet grasped the concept of an "inside voice," school poses it's own unique challenges. He has a wonderful teacher who is helping him and all the other little boys in his classroom navigate the rules and etiquette of Kindergarten. This past week, this particular teacher, who I'm quite sure must have a halo and the patience of a saint, became particularly exasperated when Nicholas continued to interrupt each lesson of the day to provide his own unique commentary on the subject. After several reminders to raise his hand with questions, and even a stern warning or two, at her wit's end, she asked Nicholas if HE would like to teach the class since he seemed so interested in being a part of the lecturing process. Little did she know, this idea thrilled him and would be perhaps his greatest achievement to date! So, this kind teacher obliged, telling Nicholas that every morning, he would be given three minutes to conduct the class. In three minutes, he could speak to the class on whatever subject he chose, but had to do so standing tall and with fingers out of his mouth (and nose), and had to ensure that all the children seated in a circle on the rug were listening. So, the next morning, Nicholas marches up to the front of the room, folds his hands neatly in front of him and tells the class the story of getting a hair-cut the day before, sparing no detail, including the fact that this was only his second trip to a barbershop, as he was certainly too old to be getting his hair cut at an establishment that had a playroom and provided lollipops. He also recounts how the barber told him that just that morning, he had cut his grandfather's hair in that very same chair. Nicholas looks down on the floor to the curls of dark brown hair still to be swept from the previous customer and informs the barber that his grandfather must not have sat in this chair, because his hair is white, like cottonballs! Surprisingly, so I'm told, the class sat at attention, and Nicholas reminded them all to raise their hands if they wanted to ask questions. For an entire week, Nicholas was given three minutes in front of his class, and he was sure to remind his teacher if she forgot! Now, will this prevent him from interrupting every morning or getting up out of his seat without asking permission to do so? Probably not. I can tell you though, that I have never heard a six-year-old sound so proud of himself and I'm quite sure his self-esteem took a boost.


This week, I have been surrounded with a lot of negative talk, thankfully not directly relating to me, but affecting me nonetheless. It seems to be everywhere, from Facebook to the grocery store to my place of employment. I wonder, if we all had to get our point across in three minutes or less, could we do it without the added negativity? Can we boost our own self-esteem without the added cost of speaking poorly about someone else? Can we take pride in our own thoughts and actions without being so quick and rash to judge someone who chooses to take a different path? I will be the first one to say that I am guilty of joining in a conversation focused on judging the actions of someone else or speaking negatively about a situation. I can think of several instances in the past week when I have engaged in the behavior that is so disturbing to me when I see it in others. It's so much easier to pretend that we are not the ones who cause negativity when we see others engage in it. So, for now, I am choosing to be mindful of the conversations I engage in, and the quick judgments I pass on others. Working in the field that I do, I have been trained to not pass judgment on patients and families, but human nature encourages our thoughts to be judgmental even when our words are not. I would be hurt, offended, and dismayed to find that someone was judging or speaking negatively of my thoughts, words, and actions. I suppose that we cannot judge other's paths, even if we think we ourselves have walked that path.


To my blog followers, I wish for you this week to find opportunities in where you can boost the self-esteem of others, in three minutes or less! I hope that you can be mindful of the things you speak and the phrases you type, especially on Facebook where it is accessible and potentially hurtful to so many others. I wish for you opportunities to reframe your thought process about something once viewed as completely negative. Perhaps that is one thing that six months of chronic illness has taught me, no matter how bleak the circumstances are and no matter how long the list of negatives are, somewhere there IS a chance to reframe your perspective and experience personal growth, even if it takes a little digging. I can honestly say that my perspective on certain things in this life has taken a complete turn-around in the last six months due to my own circumstances and things I have witnessed in others. I do believe that we have a choice how we make each day, and for now, I'm going to try to follow the example of a child who, despite more obstacles than most his age, wakes up each morning excited for what the day has to offer and finds joy in things most of us would see as only mundane. Blessings to all you love in this world, and for those of you with healthy children in your life, give more hugs than you think you need to and fill your life with their joy!

Slow to Anger, Rich in Kindness

I have never been one to think of myself as an angry person. I don't yell, scream, throw things, punch my fist through a wall, or curse. However, I probably had many meltdowns during my early hormonal teenage years that my mother could attest involved some of the above activities. I do remember being quite argumentative and practicing my excellent public speaking and debate skills on my friends and family members, and always wanting to be right. Ok, who doesn't love being right now and again? After having moved into a large city, I have come across many people doing everyday activities that get red-in-the-face, foot stomping, dropping the F-bomb mad! I would say that most of these individuals are probably driving the city streets or attempting to get around a stalled car in a traffic jam. I do, however, readily admit, that at times I can be easily irritated! There are certain things in life, that regardless of their mundane and irrational nature, grate on my nerves like chalk on a blackboard. For instance, why must one talk on their cellphone when walking very slowly through a crowded store, making it impossible for anyone to pass them? Irritating? Of course. Important in the grand scheme of the universe? Surely not. Here's another one. If you are a cashier at a drugstore, I generally find it quite irritating if you wipe your nose with your hand prior to reaching into the register to dispense my change. Nerve grating for someone who washes their hands like it's going out of style and a little bit gross? Sure. Worth me flying into a rage and demanding to speak to the manager? Probably not. Just when I thought that everyone in the world must have it on their personal agenda to annoy me, I had one of those moments at work this week. As Oprah would call it, I experienced a God-wink, or an "aha" experience that I just had to share. 


I would say that this particular shift was a rather typical evening, refer to the last post for what that entails! I noticed on our electronic census that a patient had come into the Emergency Department who I was familiar with. This particular patient is well known to our hospital after having spent much of her life enduring surgical procedures and extended stay. I hadn't seen her in quite some time, and was anxious to see how she was doing. I brought her what I knew were two of her favorite items to help her through a hospital stay: Play-doh and a princess movie, turned up extra loud! One of the trade-offs for cutting edge treatment for a life-threatening illness for this patient is almost complete blindness. While she was delighted with the items I had brought her and an opportunity for us to play one of our favorite games in which she shapes something out of the Play-doh and I have to guess what it is (with my eyes closed of course), I noticed that the caregiver that was with her was, well, rip-roaring mad! I have to say with quite a bit of humility, that angry caregivers in the hospital are kind of my expertise. This is quite hilarious given that if someone close to me said anything mean or hurtful, I would probably cry like a school-girl. But, for whatever reason, when I'm in my work setting, I tend to be able to de-escalate situations and serve as the "mediator" if you will between parents and our medical staff. It's my job to flesh out the reasons behind the red-face and cursing, and try to help the angry caregivers and frustrated staff come to some kind of mutual understanding. And as tends to be the unspoken motto in the ER, when all else fails with a patient or the parent, call the Child Life Specialist!


Parents and caregivers who know the intricate workings of the hospital probably better than most staff do, are much more susceptible to increased frustration and anger when they are required to sit in an Emergency Department, and be questioned by an intern, two residents, and an attending physician about their child's lengthy medical history. On that particular night, this caregiver had valid reasons to be frustrated. The doctor who was overseeing the patient's care had valid reasons to be frustrated as well. After several conversations both inside the room and outside the room with myself, the caregiver, and two physicians, it didn't seem that we were meeting common ground. In fact, we weren't meeting common anything! With a heaping of dismay and frustration myself, I returned to the room once more with the caregiver to attempt to "make a deal" as a last resort. All of a sudden, in the midst of a particularly angry rant, I hear a familiar but out-of-place sound. A tiny little warrior in a printed hospital gown, waiting ever so patiently for my attention to her Play-Doh sculpture, had leaned forward so that she could hear the story that accompanied the princess movie I had provided for her, and had begun to giggle. A merciless, shoulder-shaking giggle on her tiny frame that sliced through the thick tension in the room. Her caregiver stopped in mid-sentence, our eyes met, and I'll be darned if a huge grin didn't cross their face! True story! In all of our attempts to find common ground, the caregiver, the physicians, and myself, had all ignored the common ground with her pink Play-doh sitting right there in that hospital bed. As I hugged her goodbye when I left that night, I squeezed her a little tighter, silently thanking her for giving us all the breather that we needed. Cheesy story? You bet, and I wouldn't change a single second of it!


So, to my blog followers, I hope that you all experience God-winks or "Aha" moments that make you question the importance of your anger or irritation with life. I think that there are times in life when anger is 100 percent justified and called for. However, I wish for you more times than not to be slow to anger and rich in kindness. I suppose I would rather be more defined by acts of kindness than by acts of anger. For me, I'll try not to let life's little irritations bother me so much, as I know I have greater things in life to focus on. Wishing you all chances to delight in gorgeous Spring weather this week, kind words to speak to others, kindness towards yourself, and blessings to all you love in this world!

Let the Children Come to Me

Since March is National Child Life Month, I thought I would take this opportunity to brag a little bit about my job and give you a day in the life of working in a large inner-city Emergency Department. I never thought that the ED environment would be right for me until I had the opportunity to spend some time working in a smaller unit during a graduate level internship. After the first few days, I was hooked! I love the fast-paced environment, the chance to see a variety of different patients, and the challenge. I think working in this environment actually helps me to disconnect from my job when I need to go home at the end of the day and remember that most children are healthy and uninjured. While I certainly get attached to certain patients, because I only see them for several hours, rather than spending several weeks with them, I have the ability to leave work at work, although that is sometimes easier said than done! I also think that is helpful in my current line of work that I don't have children. Finally, one perk of being single! It allows me to a bit more objective and fully support families. When I do become a parent, I have a feeling that I will either be the most informed or most neurotic mother after having witnessed so many injuries and illnesses. So, what exactly does a Child Life Specialist do? 


In simple terms, my number one and most important job is to help support patients and families while they navigate the unfamiliar and often frightening experience of coming into the Emergency Department. I provide developmentally appropriate play materials and opportunities to help patients pass the time during an extended wait, distraction for a variety of exams and medical procedures, teaching and education for any number of injuries, illnesses, treatments, and procedures, support for siblings, parents, and extended family members, referrals to hospital and community support services, as well as information related to being admitted to the hospital and the medical and support services that are available. I am a part of a trauma response team, and help a patient to understand what is happening when they are brought into our trauma bay due to the fact that they have a serious and sometimes life-threatening injury. Because I work at night at the hospital, I am also considered an on-call resource for any patient or family in the hospital who may have an urgent coping or procedural support need. Finally, I provide end-of-life support to families both in the Emergency Department and throughout the hospital that includes the creation of legacy items, sibling teaching and support, and providing family members with a variety of resources for grief and coping. Whew! I can without a doubt say that this job at this particular institution is the most challenging, rewarding, heartbreaking, but ultimately worthwhile position I have ever had the privilege of obtaining. Perhaps that's what makes my current situation with chronic illness so difficult in terms of my abilities to work a physically and emotionally demanding job! 


At the end of every shift, when I think to myself that I have "seen it all," I need only to walk back through the Emergency Room doors the next day. It is not uncommon for me in the course of a single shift to work with the family of a three day old infant in helping them to prepare the patient's sibling for an extended hospital stay, and then to spend time with a 26-year old oncology patient who continues to be treated for cancer at a children's hospital due to the fact that her prognosis is much better when she remains on a pediatric research protocol. However, I would say that the majority of my patients tend to be between the age of four and twelve years old. In any given night, I am responsible for a specific pod of patients, usually encompassing twelve to fifteen rooms, although our entire ED houses 80 pediatric beds. Within those fifteen rooms, I have seen extremely rare genetic diseases, life-threatening injuries, many cancer diagnoses, patients who have just arrived to the United States from halfway around the world to receive specialized treatment, horrific acts of violence against children, and run of the mill fevers, coughs, and colds. I have experienced families who welcome me into the hospital room with open arms and eager to assist their child in coping with this experience, as well as those who banish me from the room with shouting and cursing. I do not always feel appreciated, respected, or valued. However, at the end of the day, I always believe that I what I do has meaning and is as necessary to patients as IV medications, bloodwork, medical evaluations, and CT scans. 


To give you an inkling of what a typical day is like, here's an example of one hour of patient care last week. I provided support and distraction to a three-year-old boy who had swallowed his mother's wedding ring at home and was transferred from an another hospital for further evaluation. His impish grin and delight in throwing toys across the room entertained the physician who spoke with his mother and assured her that the ring would likely "pass" in the next several days. My next stop was the room of a fifteen-year-old boy who would be spending his first night in the hospital in our Cardiac Intensive Care Unit due to a life-threatening abnormality of his heart rhythm. He taught me about hockey, while I taught him about a procedure called a cardiac cath and asked his nurse to print out his EKG rhythm strip while we compared it to a photo of what a typical heart rate should look like. Two rooms down, I modeled positions of comfort to a frustrated mother of an infant who was having difficulty tolerating the oxygen mask needed to improve his breathing and soothe his croupy cough. When that same infant need an IV placed, I used a pacifier and a solution of sugar water to keep him calm, then allowed his mother to swaddle and hold him for the remainder of the procedure. Finally, I helped a terrified ten-year-old girl understand how it was impossible for her to wake up in the middle of the surgery necessary to remove her appendix. Together, we used a preparation book of pictures to identify each step of the process. She was wheeled off to the operating room chatting about the great dream she would have and clutching a brand new stuffed pig. 


I wish that every day could be a success. I wish that I never had to watch families endure terrible diagnoses, heartbreaking loss, and destructive grief. At the end of the day, I don't usually know the outcome of my patients, or where their journeys lead them when they are either discharged or admitted to the hospital. What I can be sure of, is that in some form or another, I will continue to do what I love and love what I do, even if that looks different than I had imagined even six months ago. To my blog followers, I hope that you are as blessed as I am, to have found your calling and true passion in what you do. I hope that you are appreciated, valued, and thanked frequently for the services you provide! If not, I hope you give yourself a pat on the back every so often. Speak kindly to those you work with, support them in their efforts, and blessings to all you love in this world!

It Is Well With My Soul

I can just feel Spring in the air! I am practically itching for warmer weather and longer days, and the return of capris and flip-flops. As a Southern girl at heart, I still can't quite get used to freezing cold weather in March! Sunny days can certainly be a tease in this part of the country, with strong winds and bitterly cold temperatures. I began to slowly transition back to work last week and continue to work only part-time this week. Despite the immense toll it takes on my body and the physical challenges to having to adjust to being on my feet again, I can certainly say that sweet little toddlers, even when they are sniffly, coughing, running fevers, and probably oozing contagious illnesses, tend to warm the heart and lift the spirit. Isn't it funny how some young children can be very sick, sick enough to warrant a trip to the Emergency Department, and yet still smile, laugh, and want to play with a large assortment of toys? At the hospital I work at, each individual room in the Emergency Department is closed in with a sliding glass door. One of my favorite ways to introduce myself to a perhaps somewhat shy little patient is to kneel down in the front of the door, knock on it, peek out from behind the curtain, or sometimes pretend to ring a doorbell. I try to ignore the strange looks from doctors passing by as I try out a variety of doorbell ringing sounds. For most of our littlest patients, this is quite hysterical, almost as funny as me taking my hospital phone out of my pocket and pretending to call them. I have recently been given the opportunity to create a mentoring experience for a first-year pediatric resident to give her several weeks in the life of a Child Life Specialist! She will be armed with bubbles, teaching dolls, books, and stickers, rather than stethoscopes, tongue depressors, and syringes. I am hoping that our smallest of teachers can give her a better understanding of what being a child in the hospital is really about. Please continue to keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I navigate a physically difficult return to work and continue to make decisions for my future that will benefit me both personally and professionally.


I read something this week that really struck a chord with me. Being "healthy" has nothing at all to do with being "well." I think each of us has our own picture of what "healthy" entails, whether that is a certain type of diet, body type, or absence of a chronic illness such as diabetes, asthma, or migraine headaches. If we each were to imagine that we had everything checked off on a list that allowed us to be completely healthy, would we still consider ourselves well? Are we willing to sacrifice any of our own internal wellness to achieve complete physical health? For me, one of the interesting things about facing chronic health concerns, is that I can feel myself begin to shift towards an ideal of a different type of health. Perhaps I can't "fix" what is wrong with my body now, or achieve an ideal sense of physical wellness, but I can work to create a more total sense of wellness, strengthening my relationship with God, being mindful of the substances that I choose to put into my body, increasing physical exercise, fostering interpersonal relationships with friends and families, and choosing emotional health by surrounding myself with positive words, thoughts, and actions. While I feel that my late-20's body has failed me in a sense, perhaps I can fall back on other aspects of wellness, and maybe someday they will over-compensate my physical limitations. I have so much more compassion than I ever did for people at any age who struggle with health concerns, especially when there is no direct prescription or cure for returning your body to the state it used to be in. Wow, doesn't that sound philosophical? For those of you blessed with excellent physical health, I hope you find wellness in other aspects of your life as well, and always follow the example of the young Emergency Department patient who chooses to sing, play, and giggle!


To my blog followers, wishing for you all this week a chance to engage with a young child, to be very very silly, to giggle and laugh, to play a game, and to sing songs. I can guarantee you it will be a far better stress-reliever than pizza, beer, or chocolate! Don't forget to turn your clocks forward this weekend. And finally, a special birthday shout-out to my favorite aunt! Until next time, speak kindly, sing loudly, and blessings to all you love in this world.