Helpless
Shortly after my daughter Katie’s first birthday, I took her for her check-up. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Weigh her, measure her, give her a couple of shots, and we’d be on our way.
This is not what happened.
Because of our recent move, it had been a few months since Katie’s last well-check, so this was our first time to see this doctor. She basically took one look at Katie and told us that there was something very wrong with her. She was not growing and developing as she should.
My voice shook as I called Kevin and told him that we needed to take Katie to the hospital. Shocked and confused, we were in a daze when we checked into the hospital. When we entered our room and saw the steel baby crib, I couldn’t help thinking of all the telethons I had seen over the years. This is where sick children come. My Katie isn’t sick. Is she?
We stayed for a week. Katie wore a tiny yellow gown, and we pushed her up and down the halls in a little pink car. A tube in her nose carried Pediasure to her stomach. We saw many specialists and answered a million questions. My head hurt so badly that it gave way to vomiting at one point. Katie was subjected to all sorts of tests . . . tests that spurred confusing prayers within me. Although I wanted the doctors to find answers, I didn’t want these to be the answers.
An unparalleled feeling of helplessness comes when you have a sick child. As we watched the anesthesiologist put our daughter to sleep and then watched her tiny body go into a huge MRI machine, we could hardly take it. We wanted to hold her and assure her that everything was going to be fine. Instead, we had to watch her from a distance and pray and hold each other instead.
The outcome of that week–the longest and most difficult week for us as parents–was not what we expected. After being tested for diseases such as Cystic Fibrosis and Muscular Dystrophy, Katie was diagnosed with Celiac Disease, which means she has an intolerance for gluten.
We practically jumped for joy! This simply meant a change in her diet. No medication, no physical therapy, no hospital stays. Such overwhelming relief came over us!
As we left the hospital, we couldn’t help but think of the many parents who were not receiving such good news. So many children had to stay in that hospital. Some of them would never go home again. While I am thankful that my own child is well, my heart hurts for those who are not.
I never want to forget that week. I always want to be compassionate and prayerful for sick children and their parents. And I don’t want to take my own children’s health for granted. Ever.
