The Feeling is Mutual
My job has many parts. Some things I have to do, some I look forward to, but seeing my young patients—that’s like dessert. Or it’s like falling in love: completely wholehearted. A little girl comes in and everything about her—her bravery or her fear, her sweetness and patience or the anger and frustration she feels because of the learning problems she’s experiencing—moves me to do everything I can.
I remember the first time I was overwhelmed by the wonderful personality of a child I was treating. It was decades ago when I was doing my residency at the University of Minnesota Hospitals. John B. was a little brown-haired boy of seven from a tiny Minnesota town. He came all dressed up in a little shirt and tie because the hospital was in the big city. John was bright and thoughtful, but seizures and learning issues made things hard for him and he had become shy and withdrawn. He didn’t speak at first, but he had a wonderful way of connecting non-verbally. A great smile. An expressive, intelligent gaze.
Luckily it was relatively easy to be very helpful and John improved rapidly. The first thing we needed to treat was the seizures and the first medicine we tried worked. He was thrilled. It was such a relief to him and to his family.
Beyond that, he had learning issues, so I talked to his teacher. She hadn’t realized that he had a hard time copying spelling lists and math problems from the board. After we talked, she gave him a written sheet of the information. It helped enormously. So he wrote me a note. “When you talked to my teacher it was like a Christmas present, and it’s only November. The teacher has started giving everyone a copy of what she gives me. Now it’s easier for the whole class and I feel even better.” It melted my heart.
You might think that I fell in love with this child because he was cheerful and grateful and because it mattered to him that not only he, but his classmates, were helped by the intervention. It might seem as if doctors don’t feel that way about children who are difficult or act out. But I love them, too. I know that no child wants to be upset and angry. No child wants to earn the annoyance and disapproval of parents and schoolmates. There are reasons why a child is difficult, and my job is to discover what they are and to create a healing space where that child doesn’t need to be a problem anymore.
When I can do that, when I’ve worked hard to find a solution and a child and his or her family has worked with me wholeheartedly, it’s like a gift. My young patients and their families often tell me they are grateful. I thought I would take time on Valentine’s Day to let them know I’m grateful, too.