There must be nothing worse in this world than listening to the screams of pain and terror of one's child. Twice during this hospital visit, Owen was tested for RSV because it - and every kind of respiratory virus - is so common here in smoggy Santiago. The test involves sticking a tube down through the nose and throat in order to suction an amount of mucuous for further examination. He was also "pricked" for an IV in one arm and an arterial blood draw in the other.
I explained to the attending physician in the ER that Owen had been traumatized on our last visit by the difficulty the nurses had in finding his veins because they "couldn't see them." I also warned him and the nurses about how very strong Owen is when he becomes agitated and tries to fight them - it literally takes me and two or three others to hold him down. Thankfully, in the ER a nurse was called upon who really knew her stuff and basically got the job done on the first try.
The problem was that Owen pulled his IV out while in the ICU (he did this on our last visit as well.) And there we did not have the same good fortune as in the ER; instead, the nurse inserted the needle into Owen's hand, moved it, pulled it in, pulled it out, to one side, to the other ... all the while I was holding my son as tears poured from his eyes and his voice became raw from screaming. By the end, I was crying too! In fact, finally they just gave up and the doctor prescriped oral medication and lots of liquids instead.
It was yesterday as I was restraining Owen and listening to him wail during the first RSV test, that the thought of so many children suffering in even worse fear and pain around the world came to my mind. Stories I have read from the atrocities in Sudan and the horrors of child slavery in Haiti suddenly filled my heart with grief, for the parents that witness the lives and innocence of their children taken and for the children who have no parents to grieve over them in the midst of their agony.
At least I know that the suffering of my child is momentary and for his good. But what of the hundreds of thousands who cannot say the same? And what can we as Christians do to take the healing name of Jesus to those for whom nothing else is capable to even touch the surface of their wounds? My heart breaks as I wonder.
I explained to the attending physician in the ER that Owen had been traumatized on our last visit by the difficulty the nurses had in finding his veins because they "couldn't see them." I also warned him and the nurses about how very strong Owen is when he becomes agitated and tries to fight them - it literally takes me and two or three others to hold him down. Thankfully, in the ER a nurse was called upon who really knew her stuff and basically got the job done on the first try.
The problem was that Owen pulled his IV out while in the ICU (he did this on our last visit as well.) And there we did not have the same good fortune as in the ER; instead, the nurse inserted the needle into Owen's hand, moved it, pulled it in, pulled it out, to one side, to the other ... all the while I was holding my son as tears poured from his eyes and his voice became raw from screaming. By the end, I was crying too! In fact, finally they just gave up and the doctor prescriped oral medication and lots of liquids instead.
It was yesterday as I was restraining Owen and listening to him wail during the first RSV test, that the thought of so many children suffering in even worse fear and pain around the world came to my mind. Stories I have read from the atrocities in Sudan and the horrors of child slavery in Haiti suddenly filled my heart with grief, for the parents that witness the lives and innocence of their children taken and for the children who have no parents to grieve over them in the midst of their agony.
At least I know that the suffering of my child is momentary and for his good. But what of the hundreds of thousands who cannot say the same? And what can we as Christians do to take the healing name of Jesus to those for whom nothing else is capable to even touch the surface of their wounds? My heart breaks as I wonder.
7 comments:
wow...what else can i say?? It's amazing how the Lord has placed you right there to witness these things and to show you what he has for you in the future, too! Every little detail...
At times like this , Steph, do you remember when you had the infected foot in Chile and Dad had to take you daily to have it scraped and cleaned out? I imagine Dad felt a bit like you did with Owen today. I love you.
Praying that Owen will get well soon and that something can be done to keep this from happening.
Thank you for sharing thoughts on children from around the world, it is hard to watch your own children suffer with sickness, but there are children going through so much more.
hey steph, i remember feeling the same way when jhocy was in the hospital with salmanella. i to cried 3 out of 3 days being there. it is awful watching your kids go through that kind of fear and pain yet knowing that it is for their own good. and your so right i can't imagine what other parents go through watching their children for things that should truly not be happening to them!
Est, I know how I felt when Max was 3 months & had pneumonia, they pricked him about 5 times & put a catheter in him, of course I cried the entire time. It is hard on the child but I believe it is worse on the parents. I am praying for Owen & you during this time...I know you have a lot of decisions to make in reference to his future health & treatment, ang
This post just made me cry. . . I have thought of that when I see Mira get her shots. UGH! Makes me want to hurry and adopt as many kids as I can
Hugs to you
Oh my gosh! I have been away from your blog for a few day. So much has happened! I thought you would be in Haiti. Praying for you and your son. Thanks for all your encouragment you give me. I pray someday we will get to meet.
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