Now

I have been an errant blogger ... life has interrupted my desire to blog.  First and foremost, I have a lovely new granddaughter.  She is one month old and I marvel at how such a tiny being has become such a huge force.  I miss her when I do not see her for a day or two.  She has caused me to reflect, in a different way, about children who die. 

Since I have been working in pediatrics for 30 years, I have experienced the "what-if-this-were-my-child" phenomenon for many years.  When my daughter was five, every headache signified a brain tumor, not yet quite big or intrusive enough to cause more marked symptoms.  My son's plight seemed to be acute lymphocytic leukemia:  swollen lymph nodes, aching legs, fatigue.  I do not say this to make light of either of this horrific conditions; I am not making fun of the diagnoses and, certainly, am not disrespecting those who have these diseases.  Rather, I am just saying that I have long worried about my children's health.

Now, I have a new perspective - but not one that is better.  Now I worry about this precious grandbaby. And about her precious parents.  Now I can step back far enough to realize that the reality of the experiences of parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles and others who love very sick children must be unimagineably awful, sickening, screamingly over-the-top terrible. Now my heart hurts for kids and their families more than ever.

As someone who provides psychosocial support to families of very sick infatns, children and adolescents, I realize that we are unable to ease the pain much.  We try, but do we ever really succeed?

I hope so.

I fear not.