One of my first social media posts (a Tweet) after E's diagnosis read:
"The nurses, doctors, staff, and volunteers who work at Sick Kids are goddamn superheroes, and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise."
I also quoted it in an earlier post on this blog.
The nine days spent at SickKids were difficult. Not just from the point of view of wrapping your head around the fact that your child has cancer, but also from seeing countless other children in the hospital receiving various forms of treatment. Up on the 8th floor, all the patients you see are either hematology/oncology patients, or burn unit patients. In our section, hematology/oncology, E was one of the younger ones there, but I do recall seeing (and shedding some tears) a baby who couldn't have been more than 2 months old. Most of our time was spent in our room, but when the both of us were at the hospital, we would trade off taking breaks to get out. This helped us keep our sanity, and gave us a chance to get a bit of food even though neither of us felt overly hungry in that initial period. My heart would break on these daily excursions because you would inevitably see children hooked up to IVs or being strolled around in wheelchairs, afflicted by various illnesses or maladies.
I remarked to my wife that the staff, nurses, and doctors must be some extra special people to come in to work on a daily basis and see the things that they see. It's great that a hospital such as SickKids exists, but it's a shame that it HAS to exist in the first place. Later on during our stay, we were chatting with one of our nurses. I was telling her how I have the utmost respect for her profession, having 12 hour shifts, having to switch from day to night, and having to see all these poor babies, kids, teenagers, and families at their absolute worst. She turned the thought around on me and said she is driven by the strength and resolve she sees in so many patients and families, and said that helping us and hearing our story was inspirational. It's......I'm not even sure what is the right word to go here, maybe heartwarming? It's heartwarming to hear that someone finds your story inspirational, when on the inside, you feel like you're using chewing gum and dental floss to barely hold things together.
Goddamn superheroes I tell you.
"The nurses, doctors, staff, and volunteers who work at Sick Kids are goddamn superheroes, and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise."
I also quoted it in an earlier post on this blog.
The nine days spent at SickKids were difficult. Not just from the point of view of wrapping your head around the fact that your child has cancer, but also from seeing countless other children in the hospital receiving various forms of treatment. Up on the 8th floor, all the patients you see are either hematology/oncology patients, or burn unit patients. In our section, hematology/oncology, E was one of the younger ones there, but I do recall seeing (and shedding some tears) a baby who couldn't have been more than 2 months old. Most of our time was spent in our room, but when the both of us were at the hospital, we would trade off taking breaks to get out. This helped us keep our sanity, and gave us a chance to get a bit of food even though neither of us felt overly hungry in that initial period. My heart would break on these daily excursions because you would inevitably see children hooked up to IVs or being strolled around in wheelchairs, afflicted by various illnesses or maladies.
I remarked to my wife that the staff, nurses, and doctors must be some extra special people to come in to work on a daily basis and see the things that they see. It's great that a hospital such as SickKids exists, but it's a shame that it HAS to exist in the first place. Later on during our stay, we were chatting with one of our nurses. I was telling her how I have the utmost respect for her profession, having 12 hour shifts, having to switch from day to night, and having to see all these poor babies, kids, teenagers, and families at their absolute worst. She turned the thought around on me and said she is driven by the strength and resolve she sees in so many patients and families, and said that helping us and hearing our story was inspirational. It's......I'm not even sure what is the right word to go here, maybe heartwarming? It's heartwarming to hear that someone finds your story inspirational, when on the inside, you feel like you're using chewing gum and dental floss to barely hold things together.
Goddamn superheroes I tell you.
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