Recently one of our granddaughters had surgery at Cook’s Children’s Hospital in Fort Worth. There’s a really big medical name for the surgery she had, but it boils down to ear surgery to improve her hearing. The family gathered early that morning for a long day of pre-surgery, during surgery, and post-surgery waiting.
I hate to admit it, but I’d never been to Cook’s and now I wish all of my (adult) surgeries could have been there. From the moment I walked through the door I felt I was on the yellow brick road to Oz. Colorful, castles, play rooms, furniture built for kids (along with adult-size furniture, too), red wagons to pull kiddos from one station to the next, and promises of rainbow popsicles after surgery. There was even a Build-A-Bear Workshop. And for us old people who tend to fall asleep, there was a Starbucks down the hall.
The staff, from receptionist to surgical, shared singular focus – taking care of their little charges while alleviating the stress of worried parents (and grandparents). Cook’s went above and beyond my wildest expectations.
I do a lot of observing in my down times (like sitting in waiting rooms). I saw lots of families who were visited by church ministers (as in our case), I saw families who had extended family near, but I also observed two people who were there all alone.
Maybe they didn’t have a church family, maybe their family lived far away, maybe they didn’t have any family or friends, or maybe they were estranged from everyone. I don’t know. What I do know is being alone during an illness or surgery saddens me.
What saddens me even more is that I didn’t reach out to either one of them once I realized they had no one.
Tagged: church, grandchildren
