Lessons from a six year old
08/09/2006
The summer of 2004 was particularly difficult for us. Kuttan, a year old then had just started nursery and was coming home with all sorts of infections. He seemed to be falling ill quite frequently with a high temperature. We took him to the doctors who assured us that it was a viral infection which is pretty common with kids of that age. It did not seem normal though with Kuttan's fever returning once every three days.
On a particular windy Wednesday morning, Kuttan woke up with a high temperature. My attempts to get him to eat his idli didn't work and he seemed very tired. He had just started walking and as I was getting out his paracetamol my poor boy (who is normally very cheerful and active) slowly walked to the couch and laid on the cushion. It was heart wrenching to see him so dull and miserable. I rang work to let them know that my boy is poorly. They requested me to come to work to hand over the presentation slides and then take the rest of the day off. We then left Kuttan at nursery requesting the girls to look after him for just an hour till I get back from office.
But the journey to work that normally takes about twenty minutes, took about an hour and a half due to some major road works. Every minute seemed like an hour. I was praying fervently asking the Gods to show mercy on us and our sick child. I was determined to get the GPs at the surgery to refer him to a specialist. I may be no doctor yet this somehow didn't feel right. As I stepped into the office building Hannah our receptionist who had come downstairs to collect the post informed that the teachers from Kuttan's nursery had called asking me to come and pick him up as soon as possible as he had developed difficulties breathing. I thrust the documents and the key to my drawer and rushed back to the car park.
At the nursery, our boy was stripped and was lying on the cot with only his nappies. There were two fans on either side of him and one of the teachers was applying the cool compress. He was breathing quite loudly and was fast asleep. We decided to make a brief stop at home to gather some of his essentials before rushing off to the Children's A&E. On reaching home, the moment I laid him on his cot to change his nappy his nose started bleeding profusely. We were very scared and did not know what to do. I wrapped my boy in a towel and rushed to the car. Hubby dropped us off at the A&E's main entrance and zoomed off to find a parking space. I rushed to the reception carrying the boy in my arms. The boy was really hot and flushed and his nose bleed seemed arrested for the moment, he was breathing through his mouth. The receptionist kept pestering me for routine health information which strangely required our religion, mother tongue and ethnicity. I am not quite sure how I managed. I desperately wanted to see a doctor. At this point he was running a temperature of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. We were rushed off to the ward, where he was stripped of his nappies and the cool compress began.
A doctor quickly examined him and requested for a chest x-ray to be done immediately. He seemed to think that Kuttan might have developed an acute chest infection and that the x-ray was just to reconfirm his findings. We were in tears at that juncture and didn't know what to do as the doctor had warned us that they might need to do a lung puncture if the fluid collection was significant. By this time, Kuttan's temperature had come down thanks to the paracetamol that he had been given some twenty minutes earlier. He was quietly playing with a toy he found in the waiting room completely oblivious to the trauma that we were going through. At this point a paediatrician came looking for us and said that Kuttan need to be given antibiotics intravenously to arrest the spread of his infection. This would mean finding the best vein in the dorsum of his left hand. He warned that since Kuttan was on the chubby category then, it might require several pricks to spot the right vein. It was a very agonising moment. We were taken to a small cubicle and the curtains were drawn. The nurse entered the room carrying all the necessary equipment in a small trolley. The doctor was holding Kuttan's hand and was speaking to him gently while eyeing for the right vein. I refused to stay with Kuttan and walked away to the far corner of the block leaving Kuttan with his dad. I felt so helpless and tears filled my eyes. I was praying that the doctor finds the right vein in the first prick. I was gazing though the huge window and the distant church seemed so ethereal on that cold, foggy and drizzling afternoon. Please answer my prayers. Please give us strength and courage to get through this ordeal, I begged.
I would have stood there for about five minutes completely lost in my own thoughts, that I hadn’t noticed the little boy standing next to me. He had lovely straight golden hair and his sparkling eyes were looking at me intently. I quickly wiped my tears and smiled at him feebly. Are you one of the parents? He asked me gently. I nodded and replied that I have accompanied my son who is currently being seen by the doctor. He's not alone in there, is he? He might get scared. He said eyeing me quizzically. I smiled and replied that the boy was with his dad. Is he really poorly? He asked. I hope not, I said and looked at him. It was now my turn to interrogate. It just occurred to me that his parents might be here for him. He did seem well, so I was not sure what to ask him.
My sister is poorly. She is in one of the rooms above. I was poorly too last year, but I recovered, guess it’s her turn now. But I was able to help her, you know. He said. Ah, that’s really nice. Now how did you help her? I asked and was half expecting him to say that he shared his toys/ books or that he was kind to her. But his response shocked me. He had been a donor to transfuse blood into his little sister. His mum, who had come looking for him, briefly explained that her two children had some rare medical condition and as her son had the same condition the previous year, he had developed the antibodies for it which explained why he was involved in the blood transfusion.
I felt God's presence through this little boy, learnt what real courage is from him and his mother.
The summer of 2004 was particularly difficult for us. Kuttan, a year old then had just started nursery and was coming home with all sorts of infections. He seemed to be falling ill quite frequently with a high temperature. We took him to the doctors who assured us that it was a viral infection which is pretty common with kids of that age. It did not seem normal though with Kuttan's fever returning once every three days.
On a particular windy Wednesday morning, Kuttan woke up with a high temperature. My attempts to get him to eat his idli didn't work and he seemed very tired. He had just started walking and as I was getting out his paracetamol my poor boy (who is normally very cheerful and active) slowly walked to the couch and laid on the cushion. It was heart wrenching to see him so dull and miserable. I rang work to let them know that my boy is poorly. They requested me to come to work to hand over the presentation slides and then take the rest of the day off. We then left Kuttan at nursery requesting the girls to look after him for just an hour till I get back from office.
But the journey to work that normally takes about twenty minutes, took about an hour and a half due to some major road works. Every minute seemed like an hour. I was praying fervently asking the Gods to show mercy on us and our sick child. I was determined to get the GPs at the surgery to refer him to a specialist. I may be no doctor yet this somehow didn't feel right. As I stepped into the office building Hannah our receptionist who had come downstairs to collect the post informed that the teachers from Kuttan's nursery had called asking me to come and pick him up as soon as possible as he had developed difficulties breathing. I thrust the documents and the key to my drawer and rushed back to the car park.
At the nursery, our boy was stripped and was lying on the cot with only his nappies. There were two fans on either side of him and one of the teachers was applying the cool compress. He was breathing quite loudly and was fast asleep. We decided to make a brief stop at home to gather some of his essentials before rushing off to the Children's A&E. On reaching home, the moment I laid him on his cot to change his nappy his nose started bleeding profusely. We were very scared and did not know what to do. I wrapped my boy in a towel and rushed to the car. Hubby dropped us off at the A&E's main entrance and zoomed off to find a parking space. I rushed to the reception carrying the boy in my arms. The boy was really hot and flushed and his nose bleed seemed arrested for the moment, he was breathing through his mouth. The receptionist kept pestering me for routine health information which strangely required our religion, mother tongue and ethnicity. I am not quite sure how I managed. I desperately wanted to see a doctor. At this point he was running a temperature of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. We were rushed off to the ward, where he was stripped of his nappies and the cool compress began.
A doctor quickly examined him and requested for a chest x-ray to be done immediately. He seemed to think that Kuttan might have developed an acute chest infection and that the x-ray was just to reconfirm his findings. We were in tears at that juncture and didn't know what to do as the doctor had warned us that they might need to do a lung puncture if the fluid collection was significant. By this time, Kuttan's temperature had come down thanks to the paracetamol that he had been given some twenty minutes earlier. He was quietly playing with a toy he found in the waiting room completely oblivious to the trauma that we were going through. At this point a paediatrician came looking for us and said that Kuttan need to be given antibiotics intravenously to arrest the spread of his infection. This would mean finding the best vein in the dorsum of his left hand. He warned that since Kuttan was on the chubby category then, it might require several pricks to spot the right vein. It was a very agonising moment. We were taken to a small cubicle and the curtains were drawn. The nurse entered the room carrying all the necessary equipment in a small trolley. The doctor was holding Kuttan's hand and was speaking to him gently while eyeing for the right vein. I refused to stay with Kuttan and walked away to the far corner of the block leaving Kuttan with his dad. I felt so helpless and tears filled my eyes. I was praying that the doctor finds the right vein in the first prick. I was gazing though the huge window and the distant church seemed so ethereal on that cold, foggy and drizzling afternoon. Please answer my prayers. Please give us strength and courage to get through this ordeal, I begged.
I would have stood there for about five minutes completely lost in my own thoughts, that I hadn’t noticed the little boy standing next to me. He had lovely straight golden hair and his sparkling eyes were looking at me intently. I quickly wiped my tears and smiled at him feebly. Are you one of the parents? He asked me gently. I nodded and replied that I have accompanied my son who is currently being seen by the doctor. He's not alone in there, is he? He might get scared. He said eyeing me quizzically. I smiled and replied that the boy was with his dad. Is he really poorly? He asked. I hope not, I said and looked at him. It was now my turn to interrogate. It just occurred to me that his parents might be here for him. He did seem well, so I was not sure what to ask him.
My sister is poorly. She is in one of the rooms above. I was poorly too last year, but I recovered, guess it’s her turn now. But I was able to help her, you know. He said. Ah, that’s really nice. Now how did you help her? I asked and was half expecting him to say that he shared his toys/ books or that he was kind to her. But his response shocked me. He had been a donor to transfuse blood into his little sister. His mum, who had come looking for him, briefly explained that her two children had some rare medical condition and as her son had the same condition the previous year, he had developed the antibodies for it which explained why he was involved in the blood transfusion.
I felt God's presence through this little boy, learnt what real courage is from him and his mother.
posted by Raji at Friday, September 08, 2006
62 comments
