Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Remembered

Today was a good day.  I like adolescents.  They are lively. 

One 15 year old boy who had been in juvie and now in a shelter/group home and who wants to work for UHaul relaxed enough to tell me about his dad being in prison until he was 10 and that his uncle died last year and that was why he had "RIP Boy" tattooed in scroll on his chest  He smoked cigarettes still (after starting pot when he was ten and meth when he was 13).  When I listened to his lungs, he said, "Pretty bad, huh?"  They actually sounded fine, but it surprised and gladdened me that he worried; I saw that he wanted to know he was still whole.  I saw then that I could validate his health for him.  A heady and profound role.  I told him they actually sounded good.  Then I asked him if he wanted to listen to them with my stethoscope, like I do with the four year olds when they are curious and shy.  He wanted to listen, too--this 15 year old boy who had grown up to fast and missed the curiosity and innocence of childhood  He told me he thought he'd be a good father, but not a good husband.  

The hernia/testicle exam was a little awkward, but now as much as the boys his age who hadn't had sex.  After I presented him to the attending, and after we'd gone back in to talk together, I was leaving and he shook my hand as I looked him in the eye and wished him well and good luck with everything.  This young man who had been through so much in his short life gave me a look as I left the room that seemed to say that things were going to be better and that some of what we'd talked about meant something to him--that he'd remember some of it.  And that he'd remember me even perhaps.  He could tell that I cared about him--that I wanted him to get the GED we'd talked about, that I wanted him to succeed.

The adolescent clinic is connected to the primary peds clinic where I'd referred one of the babies I took care of in the NICU on my very first month of residency.  The mother saw me across the barrier and asked the front office staff about me.  They asked me if I remembered the name.  Of course I did.  I saw them daily for a month.  We talked about their born-too-early daughter and her slow progress toward health.  I asked which room they were in and got away from the adolescents to say hello.  The baby was now a toddling little girl.  She told me that she'd been graduated from premie clinic--she was now a real girl.  Walking, talking, laughing, spilling drinks on her self so that she could take her drink off because she liked to be naked.  They had also adopted two small boys from Uganda who were politely curious next to her.   

I gave her a big hug and she said she's asked everyone how to find me and she still carried a present for me around in her trunk to this day.  They were planning on leaving for Indonesia where they would adopt another two children--twins perhaps.  I felt so glad to see them; it amazed me that it has been that long since I started residency that those tiny tiny babies could be now toddling children.  And it was so nice to be sought and remembered.  Maybe the 15 year old would remember me as this family had.  

A mom of a NICU baby stopped me on the street the other day.  She remembered me and said I was still in their prayers.  

I met the mother of an anorexic patient on the shuttle to the airport one day.  She told me her daughter was doing well and that remembered me and the talks we had about the value of her life and of staying well and healthy.  

She remembered.

There's something to getting to the most intimate details of someone's life within 15 minutes of meeting her that makes the constraints of interactions outside of the exam room somewhat less satisfying.  What takes weeks or months or years to discover of someone you think you want to love takes seconds or minutes with strangers in the office.  When they trust you and when they see that you really do care.  And I do.  I like my patients.  I like the little ones growing.  I like the older ones trying on their different skins.  I like the at risk bashful eighth grade girl in a half shirt telling me about having sex with someone else while her boyfriend was in juvenile hall as she hid behind and played with her long hair with split ends.  Her mother had brought her in for a urine tox screen which she'd agreed to.  I also wanted to test for a uti, std, and pregnancy.  And we gave her a depo shot. 

I'm going to try to find time to write a couple grants--one for 0-5 year olds getting established with a pediatrician--and another to fund condoms.  

3 Comments:

Blogger Karen said...

Shawna, I agree. You are an amazing person, you will touch many lives and spur change in your patient's lives. You are a blessing to all who meet you. You are always remembered. Love you!

8:58 PM, July 06, 2008  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Brilliantly addictive blog, lovin it :)

6:23 AM, August 09, 2008  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Have you given up blogging? I miss your updates.

7:46 PM, September 06, 2008  

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