Two years
ago, our daughter Guusje is in hospital. My wife Yvonne and I are sitting
beside her bed. A friendly doctor walks into the room. She tells us that she
wants to talk about the CT-scan made earlier that day. Together we walk to
another room, and take a seat. Three doctors are sitting in front of us. One of
them tells us they have seen a tumour in the left lung of our daughter, and spots
in her right lung.
And then there was silence, deadly silence.
Lightning
struck. I hear cancer. I think death.
It is as if I find myself in a very bad
movie. The doctor tells us that Guusje will probably remain hospitalised for a very
long time. He decided to book a room for us at the Ronald McDonald House. This
is a place where parents can spend the night, when their child is in hospital.
He did that with the best of intentions, but my thought is: “Who are you to
make that kind of a decision for us?” I hadn’t realized yet, that our lives
didn’t belong to us anymore.
We had to
stay in the hospital for a long time. Everybody kept on telling us that we
needed rest. But a procession of caregivers passed by her bed: nurses, more
than 60 nurses, oncologists, paediatricians, surgeons, radiotherapists,
physiotherapists, psychologists, and that wasn’t even the end of it. Each day,
when we woke up, we didn’t know what was going to happen next. We were lived.
When our
daughter was in hospital three things were important to her.
First, going
to school every morning, even though it was just for an hour. Then she could
show everyone how smart she was.
Second. Painting
for half an hour, on Tuesdays. She loved showing her creativity and was always
proud of her work.
And third.
The rabbits from the children’s farm. They visited the hospital every Thursday
afternoon. Guusje loved to pet them.
However, I
remember that these three things were often cancelled. Not because of
life-threatening situations, but because of the planning of the scans and the examinations.
Guusje
could not participate in the activities she found important. They were not
important enough for the hospital but they were extremely important for her. Why?
Those activities gave her the feeling, that her life still belonged to her.
Just like
every other child that is diagnosed with cancer in the Netherlands, Guusje also
received the Beads of Courage. There are a lot of different beads and they all
represent a different treatment, experience, or milestone. Like a yellow bead
for an x-ray or a scan, a green/orange bead for chemotherapy, a green bead for
a very bad day, and a pink one for a very good day. They are all put on a
string in chronological order. These beads helped our daughter to talk about
her disease. The string with beads symbolized her courage and what she was
going through in her young life.
We had been in the hospital for seven weeks in a row, and during those seven weeks the string with beads was growing fast. Then, one day, her oncologist entered te room and said: ‘I have a present for your tenth Birthday, Guusje. I want you to go home for a week. My present for your Birthday.' A week at home. A week without sixty nurses. A week in which Guusje could decide to paint whenever she wanted to.
We prepared
ourselves for going home. But Guusje wasn’t really comfortable about the idea
of going home. She felt that that we, as her parents, were not able to give her
injections, or deal with the feeding tube. Guusje wanted her favourite nurse to
stay with her at home that week. She didn’t understand that this was
impossible.
Two of the
nurses noticed Guusje’s uncomfortable feeling. They started to train my wife
and me in giving injections and how the feeding tube works. After a few days of
training these nurses and Guusje decided together that we were qualified
enough. My wife and I received a diploma from them. We passed our test and
graduated.
Patients,
like our daughter Guusje, have to adapt to the organisation of the hospital. You,
as professional caregivers, have the ability to give the feeling to patients
that they are in control, simply by giving them a choice. It’s in your hands.
This
feeling of having choices, of making decisions, of being in control is important. Your work is about human lives.
Medical interventions are carried out on people. And their lives belong to
them.
And Guusje?
She had an internal bleeding seven months after her diagnosis, which filled her
belly with blood. She was in a very poor condition. I had to tell her that we
loved her so much that we could let her go. We were sitting around her bed: her
mother, her father, her brothers, her sisters and her favourite nurse. We had
to wait for hours and just when nobody expected it, she chose her moment. Her
life belonged to her.
Watch this TEDx Talk on YouTube via
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoF0AGs_d_k
Watch this TEDx Talk on YouTube via
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoF0AGs_d_k