As I finished writing the latest CHOP saga, it occurred to me that I really only speak out when truly unacceptable things are going on in our lives. We're marginalized, we're ignored, someone fails to understand us, someone forgets to get back to us, we're arguing about procedures and preps, we're arguing about medications and allergies, we're fighting for formula. It's enough to scare everyone we know away from CHOP, which is just about the saddest thing ever.
CHOP is an amazing place. It's a wonderland where the sickest and most complicated children can go to heal and grow. It's a place where ER nurses remember my baby when he comes in. Where I'm allowed to contort into unimaginable positions to fit into a hospital crib all night long with my frightened child (not allowed at DuPont!). Where child life specialists never stop trying to include him, even though he quite clearly blurts out "no! get out of here!" every time they try. It's a place where you can get more than halfway decent food (most of the time), and the sushi guy makes me fresh cucumber-only rolls. If Aidan is too sick to be at home, there's nowhere on Earth I'd rather take him.
Our last hospitalization reminded me of what a special place this is, and how special the people are who work here. As we were heading home, I posted a picture of Aidan walking through the CHOP Atrium on Facebook. When our nutritionist saw the picture, she immediately knew where we were, and responded with two words. "Call Me."
She loves us. She cares. And she's not the only one.
I hope that the next time I'm unspeakably angry or completely devastated, I take a moment to come back and re-read this. Make no mistake. This place - these people - save lives. Every day, in a thousand ways.
Thank You.
CHOP is an amazing place. It's a wonderland where the sickest and most complicated children can go to heal and grow. It's a place where ER nurses remember my baby when he comes in. Where I'm allowed to contort into unimaginable positions to fit into a hospital crib all night long with my frightened child (not allowed at DuPont!). Where child life specialists never stop trying to include him, even though he quite clearly blurts out "no! get out of here!" every time they try. It's a place where you can get more than halfway decent food (most of the time), and the sushi guy makes me fresh cucumber-only rolls. If Aidan is too sick to be at home, there's nowhere on Earth I'd rather take him.
Our last hospitalization reminded me of what a special place this is, and how special the people are who work here. As we were heading home, I posted a picture of Aidan walking through the CHOP Atrium on Facebook. When our nutritionist saw the picture, she immediately knew where we were, and responded with two words. "Call Me."
She loves us. She cares. And she's not the only one.
I hope that the next time I'm unspeakably angry or completely devastated, I take a moment to come back and re-read this. Make no mistake. This place - these people - save lives. Every day, in a thousand ways.
Thank You.
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