Thursday, May 21, 2018
Tonight's picture was taken in March of 2009. I will NEVER forget that day. It was a celebration of the children's art gallery opening in the hospital. Naturally Mattie had several pieces featured as he loved creating! In this photo he was surrounded by his nurse, Kathleen, his good buddy in cancer, Brandon, Meg (child life intern), Jenny (Mattie's art therapist), and Linda (Mattie's child life specialist). I visited the hospital today to push our snack cart and Walk through this exact hallway. Mattie's story about his Lego city hospital is still on display!
Quote of the day: It's a great satisfaction knowing that for a brief point in time you made a difference. ~ Irene Natividad
So on my journey through the Children's Gallery at the hospital, I saw this photo! This is a photo of Mattie's favorite nurse, Tricia. Tricia was awarded the nurse of the year award. I text messaged her and told her I was visiting her (as she wasn't working today)!
I am not at all surprised that Tricia received this commendation. She is a stellar nurse, sharp as a tack, humorous, compassionate, and an outstanding advocate for her patients and families. So happy to see her face as I walk down the Children's Gallery. It is as if she is figuratively watching over Mattie, after all you have to pass this photo of Tricia in order to see Mattie's art.
I have been going to the hospital monthly now for maybe two years pushing our Foundation's free snack and item cart. Naturally I meet many children and families at each visit. I purposefully make these visits because I feel it is imperative for me to see the cart operationalized. I want to know what is working and what isn't working for myself.
Tonight's quote truly resonates with me. Maybe because I experienced exactly what it is talking about today. I left my hospital visit convinced that our cart is making a difference in the lives of children and family. This wasn't just by observation, which is my usual monthly feedback (in addition to hospital quarterly reports!). Instead, I had a family who has been living at the hospital on and off for the last decade who wanted to talk with me. Imagine ten or more years of hospital living? Apparently their whole family loves the cart and it keeps them sane. They say the highlight of their week, is the cart coming around. The patient in question is a teenager, and though he was sedated today for a procedure, got himself out of bed because he wanted to meet ME and discuss the cart with me. He has ideas about things to add to the cart offerings. All valid items by the way.
But given his medical condition right now, he is unable to eat any solid foods. Meaning nothing on the cart will work for him. He mentioned that he really wanted a slush/ice cone machine. That way he could have a snack (made mostly of fluid, but in a different consistency). I was so taken by him, by his medical story (as I can't imagine living life in a hospital for 19 years), his devoted family, and his desire to help others. Most people wouldn't be able to think beyond themselves and their own issues if they were in his shoes. So I told him outright, that I will be getting him the slush machine as my (not the Foundation) gift to him. If this is going to make one child happy and life more bearable in the hospital, then it brings me great satisfaction.
Needless to say I have been thinking about my interaction and conversation with this young man all day. When you reflect on that fact that you have healthy teenagers in the community focused on social media, pot, and complaining about all sorts of trivial matters, it gives me pause. As they don't realize how lucky they are, since being healthy is a gift that they shouldn't waste. I have no doubt this teen in the hospital would do anything for a 'normal' every day life. A life involving school, chores, and work. What we consider boring and tiring activities, from the perspective of the patient/family, doing these things would feel like winning the lottery. Illness gives one great perspective and clarifies priorities like nothing else could possibly do!
Though we are supplying the cart and hopefully helping others, it would never have dawned on me that I would leave today feeling like I received a gift. It was very meaningful to be told our work makes a difference and that patients and families look forward to cart visits to help them though the very long, stressful, and sometimes painful hours confined to a hospital room.
I am not at all surprised that Tricia received this commendation. She is a stellar nurse, sharp as a tack, humorous, compassionate, and an outstanding advocate for her patients and families. So happy to see her face as I walk down the Children's Gallery. It is as if she is figuratively watching over Mattie, after all you have to pass this photo of Tricia in order to see Mattie's art.
I have been going to the hospital monthly now for maybe two years pushing our Foundation's free snack and item cart. Naturally I meet many children and families at each visit. I purposefully make these visits because I feel it is imperative for me to see the cart operationalized. I want to know what is working and what isn't working for myself.
Tonight's quote truly resonates with me. Maybe because I experienced exactly what it is talking about today. I left my hospital visit convinced that our cart is making a difference in the lives of children and family. This wasn't just by observation, which is my usual monthly feedback (in addition to hospital quarterly reports!). Instead, I had a family who has been living at the hospital on and off for the last decade who wanted to talk with me. Imagine ten or more years of hospital living? Apparently their whole family loves the cart and it keeps them sane. They say the highlight of their week, is the cart coming around. The patient in question is a teenager, and though he was sedated today for a procedure, got himself out of bed because he wanted to meet ME and discuss the cart with me. He has ideas about things to add to the cart offerings. All valid items by the way.
But given his medical condition right now, he is unable to eat any solid foods. Meaning nothing on the cart will work for him. He mentioned that he really wanted a slush/ice cone machine. That way he could have a snack (made mostly of fluid, but in a different consistency). I was so taken by him, by his medical story (as I can't imagine living life in a hospital for 19 years), his devoted family, and his desire to help others. Most people wouldn't be able to think beyond themselves and their own issues if they were in his shoes. So I told him outright, that I will be getting him the slush machine as my (not the Foundation) gift to him. If this is going to make one child happy and life more bearable in the hospital, then it brings me great satisfaction.
Needless to say I have been thinking about my interaction and conversation with this young man all day. When you reflect on that fact that you have healthy teenagers in the community focused on social media, pot, and complaining about all sorts of trivial matters, it gives me pause. As they don't realize how lucky they are, since being healthy is a gift that they shouldn't waste. I have no doubt this teen in the hospital would do anything for a 'normal' every day life. A life involving school, chores, and work. What we consider boring and tiring activities, from the perspective of the patient/family, doing these things would feel like winning the lottery. Illness gives one great perspective and clarifies priorities like nothing else could possibly do!
Though we are supplying the cart and hopefully helping others, it would never have dawned on me that I would leave today feeling like I received a gift. It was very meaningful to be told our work makes a difference and that patients and families look forward to cart visits to help them though the very long, stressful, and sometimes painful hours confined to a hospital room.
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