A Chance to Thrive (Part II)

The Discharge

Nothing, not any experience or doctors’ descriptions, could have prepared me for seeing this little boy for the very first time.  Underneath all of the wires, tubes, probes and bandages, I could just barely catch a glimpse of the frail body lying limp in the hospital bed.  His yellow-hued eyes barely glanced at me listlessly as I greeted him in my sing-song voice that I tend to use when talking to babies.  He gave no reaction whatsoever when I attempted to stroke his stick-like arms and legs.  I now understood what “Failure to Thrive” looked like.  And I was instantly afraid.  What if he died before an organ became available?  What if he did get the transplant that he needed and healed physically, but remained emotionally damaged because of all the trauma and lack of nurture during the first year of his life?  What on earth had I just agreed to?

Holding a Princess

We sit patiently in the hospital’s surgical waiting room, anticipating your turn in the operating room.   While an early morning talk-show host drones on the television overhead, I quietly look around at the other pediatric patients whose experiences briefly intercept yours.  The littlest ones are blissfully unaware of what awaits them in the next few hours, while the older ones bravely clutch a stuffed animal or toy, some of them whimpering and squirming in their parents’ laps.  The adults in the room all look bleary-eyed, worried, and even slightly impatient.  There are hundreds of places we would rather be at 6:00 on a holiday morning.