Parents want me to find a way to make the little fever or the last bit of diarrhea go away (which I can't do, sadly) because until it does, they can't go to work. For me as a doctor, it's kind of nuts -- and not the best use of anyone's time, let alone health care dollars.
People often forget to check in on the parents. They are struggling with exhaustion, confusion and fear. Be there for them by being present to their struggle. Just listen -- they know you cannot fix things. They just need love.
That's where I was for much of last month. Learning many lessons. Cleaning up bodily fluids. Spending a lot of money on Gatorade and Pedialyte. And sending mental apologies to that mom whom I once doubted, because being at work is infinitely better than all this gross nonsense.
He stares at me, along with the photographer and three preschool teachers, as I jiggle the damn stuffed lamb and make it bite my face and bleat and all the while he's firing The Stink Eye at me but it's not even a stink eye so much as it's unimpressed boredom and a tinge of... Is that disdain?
Two days after our twins' premature birth, we found out that our little Eva had severe congenital heart abnormalities. When the hospital staff told me, I could feel my own heart just sink. Our world had changed in an instant, but we didn't have time to catch our breath.