To Be a Four Year Old. . .

“Lucy do you remember when you were just a little kid and you had tubes put in your ears?”

Lucy replied, “No. What are tubes? Are they big?”

“No. They’re very tiny. We went to a special doctor who put them in and they made your ear infections all better so you didn’t have to take medicine any more.”

With a little more concern: “Do the tubes hurt when they put them in?”

I quickly explained, “No. . . because another doctor gives you anesthesia medicine so you don’t feel it at all. Do you know what anesthesia is?”

Very carefully, syllable by syllable: “Like an an-es-the-si-ol-o-gist?”

Surprised and proud of her accuracy: “Yes, that’s right! Anesthesia medicine smells funny and they give it to you in a little mask [demonstrating with a small cup I found I found that usually contains Cheerios]. But you can tell them your favorite flavor and they can make the anesthesia smell like cotton candy! After you smell it you will get very, very sleepy so the doctor puts the tubes in while you’re asleep and you won’t feel anything. What do you think about that?”

With a shrug: “Cool.”

We came back from the pediatrician today for what seemed like (and probably is actually close to) the hundredth time with another ear infection. The eardrum now has a chronic scarred and retracted appearance. We had myringotomy tubes at 15 months and continued to fight infection after infection even after the tubes were placed. The ENT’s office was a dreaded place for Lucy although she does not remember it. Mom and Dad are not so lucky. As I struggled to put this as delicately as possible to Lucy who is almost 5 I realized something: I was trying to soften the blow for myself, not really for her.

Man, what a reality check it is for me when it’s not somebody else’s kid. When I complain or I hear somebody else complaining in the operating room about the lousy day they’re having at work, one of the things I commonly say to try to restore perspective is, “Hey– you could be the guy on the table.” Even when it’s a surgery as minor as ear tubes you would think the pull of gravity just reversed. I try really hard to see through other’s eyes. Try to fathom the anxiety of a parent with a child newly diagnosed with a tumor. Try to comprehend the heartache of a parent with a 6 month-old who hasn’t left the ICU since birth. I just can’t imagine. . . I try to say things to comfort folks enduring these things everyday. But those words aren’t very comforting, are they?

If only we could have the peace, acceptance and determination of our 4 year-olds when it comes to life’s troubles.

If only we could truly take to heart words like:

Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous hand.

Isaiah 41:10