well, the shoes on the other foot now....

I just got home from the hospital and I am drained. No, it was not an "all nighter"--blessedly, my days of being in house for hours and days on end are over (hopefully forever). I have been "the mother of a patient". My beautiful daughter has been in the hospital for 2 days with "the migraine from hell". Besides watching her suffering, there has been the intolerable irritation at living life on the other side. Believe it or not, I am generally not a bad patient, or patient's mom. In fact, it frightens me how easily and readily I relinquish the role of doctor. But let's face it--if I am there it's because I have run out of options, and its time to punt. As one of my yoga babies put it: "if a pediatrician can't handle it in house you know its bad." And that's part of the problem. Not only do I get to feel like a terrible mom when my child is suffering (and let's all be honest, if your kid is sick and you can't fix it you feel awful) but I also get to feel like a terrible doctor (she's in with a migraine? you couldn't handle that at home?) Its a really fine line, and one that all of us as physicians dance on: don't treat your own kid vs. don't take your kid in for a nothing problem and waste someone's time. Over the years, I've gotten pretty good at the balancing act (OK, it helps that everyone I know and love--with one notable exception, liv--is "medical"--hell, my kids think everyone I know is a doctor) so I have lots of help with deciding what is what with my kids; the problem is that with that comes the constant doubt and second guessing--am I ignoring something important? am I making a mountain out of a molehill? should he be on antibiotics? can I give her any thing else for pain without a cardiac monitor (which we do not have at home, unless that confounded Xbox 360 has talents I am unaware of). And of course, when you actually are in the hospital there's the inevitable "so now you know how it feels" (as if I didn't know or care about my patient's feelings), the over-cautious (pay extra attention to her kid, she's a doctor), the over-considerate (don't go in there and bother her kid, she's a doctor), the 3 IV attempts (no one likes to stick the doctor's kid and a nervous nurse with a needle is a dangerous thing).

Not that I am complaining (really?) What struck me most about the whole experience was the incredible kindness of my "peeps". Dawn, who found time during her impossibly busy day to come by several time, bring a laptop and DVDs, find the protocol for the medicines my child was getting (which no one had ever heard of, much less given) and educate 2 shifts of nursing staff about those meds (did I mention that she is the vice president of the hospital?), and to listen to me complain and whine without ever once implying that I needed to grow up...is it any wonder she is the guardian of my kids if something ever happens to me (and their dad)? We rarely get to spend time together, but she is the first one I call when I really need something, and she has never left me hanging. The 3 "J's" who arrived with flowers and appropriate concern and sympathy--and who have monitored the situation from a comfortable and appropriate distance. Precious, precious Liv, who arrived with gifts, cheery children, and Starbucks--not to mention her own wonderful energy. How would I ever make it without her? The nightgown she brought M.E. was divine, and she even brought me grown up PJ's...she know's me better than so many people who should know me better. Even my ex did his best to be supportive and there for us--bringing food, carpooling the boys, in general doing whatever he could to make the situation bearable. And we did have some wonderful, wonderful nurses--you just can't imagine how genuinely nice they were (and I know that they probably got the short straw, NO ONE wants to be the doctor's kid's nurse, especially if that kid refers to your boss as "Aunt Dawn").

My child? Much better now, thank you! We are home, she is showered and tucked in and recovering nicely. Through it all she has been a trouper, and has made me totally proud. I am again humbled by the generosity of the universe and grateful for our overall good health and fortune.