After weeks of agonizing waiting...
I turned the corner with my Attending, our patient's father sees us from the door way and joyfully greats us with, "She's pooping!" We don't say anything at first, almost too scared to believe it to be true! But he keeps repeating it, louder each time, completely oblivious to the other inhabitants of the unit. Mom joins in, laughing more than actually saying anything. She keeps going back and forth between the bathroom door and the room door to make sure we keep coming. Our patient, inside the bathroom, exclaiming to her mom to close the door, she's not done yet! And little brother, not sure what's going on, but aware enough to realize whatever it is, is very. Very. Exciting! We get to the door and Dad hugs me... he squeezes me so hard. His little girl is pooping! And I couldn't help it. My eyes got wet all on their own. Welled right up! My patient pooped and I cried.
A few days later, she got to go home, and that night I had a nightmare. I dreamt that she came back to the hospital. I dreamt that she was admitted under General Pediatrics and a large collection in her abdomen was drained by Interventional Radiology. The worst part of my nightmare, was that we hadn't known she was there. Not until the next day at work, a pediatric resident, stops me in the hallway to ask about her history. My eyes still get big and my heart rate goes up just thinking about it. First: our patient having to come back. And Second: her not coming back to us.
You wake up from a nightmare like that and immediately start praying, "Please, let that just be a nightmare." "Please, let her be okay."
Much Love.
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