Sometimes I forget what a blessing it is to know medicine. I feel comfortable letting an illness run its course...I can generally identify, with confidence, when something is really wrong with my child and when something is really no big deal. Now I do say "generally" because the truth of the matter is that I can never truly be objective or completely rational about my own children.
I see kids...sick kids...all the time. Without even completely realizing it, throughout every office visit I'm asking myself -- how sick is this little person? is he safe at home? do we need to do tests now? will this go away? does he need meds? can we just watch and see how this goes?. The ability to separate the truly sick kids from the not so sick kids is far more important than the extent of your medical knowledge...I mean, you can look stuff up. But, on more than one occasion, I have found these skills can fly out the window when I'm looking at my own sick kid. There is some level of illness where the mama anxiety tips over any sort of medical objectivity I may posses...and it's like I took a stupid pill. I find myself at a loss..."what should we do?". And I start to remember the REALLY sick kids I've seen through the years. And I worry.
It's pretty well known throughout the medical community that doctors make terrible patients. And I would have to say that I am no exception to that rule. We know too much, we've seen bad things happen, we question everything, and we don't think any of the rules should pertain to us. Guilty. But mostly, I think it's that we have a really hard time turning over the reigns to someone else. I don't see physicians as all-knowing infallible beings. Nope. They are just people...like me...and the jokers I went to medical school with. And they make mistakes...not because they are bad, just because they are people...and that is scary.
Well, recently I have found myself too often on the wrong side of the stethoscope. We started the year out with a string of illnesses which included a pretty serious case of bronchiolitis for our little Sai guy who, at the time, was not even 3 months old. Our nanny called me at work and told me that my little baby was working hard to breathe. I had her bring him over to our clinic and I remember thinking I just needed somebody else...ANYBODY else...to look at him. I couldn't even think straight. I had ordered countless nebulizer treatments for patients throughout my medical career...but I had never before held one up to the face of my own wheezing, struggling baby. That sucks.
Our little Sai guy was born with a urologic abnormality known as a hypospadias. All in all, not a major functional issue, but something that is going to require surgical repair when he is about 9 months old. Thinking about my little cutie laid out in the OR, intubated, being cut...kills me. I know it needs to be done. Really, I just wish I didn't know what surgery on a baby looks like. I wish I could be more blissfully naive and trusting of the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. I'm sure they are great at what they do...but they are just people. Scary.
I thought Sai was going to be our first munchkin to undergo an operation. That was until the last month or so when Shaan started to complain "Mommy, my ear hurt..." nearly every day. Even when he was on antibiotics. I drove to the pharmacy and asked them to give me a print out of all the antibiotics he had been prescribed over the past year...decided that it was probably too many. Off to the ENT we went on Monday.
As suspected that "owie" ear was full of fluid, hearing was decreased on that side, and the decision was made...tubes next week. I recommend tubes for kids ALL THE TIME. And I feel good about this decision. As I say to my families who are apprehensive about their own child's upcoming tube placement, "I've never met anyone who regretted it". I mean, it's a 20 minute procedure. He will feel better and hear better. But still...it's just a little different when it's my own baby. I don't like to imagine what they look like under general anesthesia. Ugh.
And so, despite my propensity to avoid playing patient, it looks like we have signed ourselves up for a least a couple major goes at it over the next few months. I have faith that all will go well...and this experience will help me be a stronger parent and a more empathetic doctor. And though they may have a few minor imperfections, we will rebuild my little six million dollar men...we have the technology after all.
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