A Simple Procedure

Dear Children’s Hospital,

We just left your Saint Paul hospital. We visit you often. Not for super serious things thankfully. Ear tubes, Adenoids, Impaction, sedated blood draws, to name a few.

We’ve been going to doctors for so long that at this point, I don’t know if my son is getting easier, we are getting stronger, or hospitals are finally starting to get it. Either way, today went well.

Although I always like to say a huge success in our world is probably still an epic fail by typical standards. But that’s okay. We are proud of every victory.

Kids like my son need more. More patience. More understanding. More love. More everything.

My standards are high too. Ridiculously high. Where they should be. Because I’ve seen really bad healthcare. We’ve experienced it all.

And the reality is…kids with autism need more.

Waiting is hard. Sitting in a bed is hard. Being touched is hard. Being still is hard.

Being nonverbal is scary. Everything moves way too slow.

Blood pressure cuffs squeeze too tight. Blood oxygen strips are weird.

Wearing a mask is scary. And being poked with a needle is awful.

So, as a mom, I just wanted to say thank you.

Thank you to the lady who checked us in at the front desk while I ran around chasing Cooper. Thank you for speaking loudly. And understanding that I couldn’t stand still to talk to you.

And thank you for walking us to the elevator just to make sure we made it. You knew a wrong turn would be bad.

Thank you to the gentleman in the elevator delivering breakfast to patients that smiled at us while I held my 80 pound son and sang you are my sunshine. He even directed us the right way.

Thank you to the nurses who greeted us with smiles the second we crashed through the door. Trust me. Typically when people see us coming, or hear us rather, they sigh. None of you did. It was all smiles and ‘hello Cooper!’

Thank you for letting us settle into the room. And by that, thank you for letting my son touch everything. And move around and explore every inch.

Thank you to the patient advocate lady for showing him photos of what to expect. And modifying everything you could to make his visit easier.

Thank you to the staff sitting at the nurses station for not panicking every time he burst out of the room like it was on fire, only to drop to the ground and roll once I caught him.

And thank you for chatting with me while I let him work through it on the ground while asking him, ‘ready to get up’ every few seconds. You didn’t seem to mind.

As for the sedated blood draw, we were nervous. Our son is strong. He is big. We knew it was going to be a challenge.

But it went okay.

Thank you to the nurse who held his feet and the nurse who held his head. Thank you for being so gentle. And laughing with me at how strong my boy is.

Thank you to the nurse who held the iPad. You pressed play at all the right times.

Thank you to the phlebotomist who got the needle in the right spot on the right try. Seriously, thank you.

And thank you to whomever moved my leg to wrap him in a bear hug when he wiggled loose. I’m not as flexible as I once was.

Lastly, thank you for taking care of really sick kids. And really challenging kids. And parents like us.

Today went amazing. Well, amazing for us.

An eloping, four people holding him down, a ‘don’t kick our friends’ reminder, successful blood draw’ kind of amazing.

Thank you Children’s Hospital. I appreciate all of you so much.

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