Embraced because of the joy in seeing this small face we call Bern. For the first time I stopped along one of our many stroller rides and looked at the massive wall hanging there because of Charles Stewart Mott.
"We approach the problems of children with affection for theirs is the province of joy and good humor. They are the most wholesome part of the human race for they are the freshest from the hand of God." Affection, joy, and good humor. Such good stuff. And that goes for all the kids.
All of the kids with the craziest incisions you've ever seen, portions of their skulls removed, ativan anger (this would include Bern yesterday),and conditions that many of us outside planet hospital may secretly wonder about in terms of the quality and worthiness of their existence. Just a reminder...these kids bring joy.
Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the grief of a particular circumstance of the stress we envision we hospital parents have. And there's no doubt that these emotions and situations can be difficult to face, but not too many of us actually linger on that stuff in the hospital. We leave that to all of you on the outside world while we live in our little bubble. That's what I love about hospital parents. We come together for a few days, weeks, or months on our special little planet and talk about and savor the simple joys of our little ones who hold us captive there. I just like the way that Charles Mott's legacy is one that asks us to remember the joy that kids bring us, even though they can come to us with challenges particularly in the hospital setting. Thanks, Charles! Or was he a Chuck? Or Charlie? I like it.
So we enjoyed our time wandering around.
But we did get to leave. And note the date: June 4. Those of you who have read this care page long enough know that I tend to pay closer attention to matters of fate. Combine Jeff and I, our fave surgeon, a terrible accident, and one little Bern and there's lots to ponder.
I start at the earliest point of interest. Seventeen years ago yesterday, Jeff and I went on our first date in Ann Arbor on a walk with Norm, the fraternity house dog, and wrapped up the day with dinner at Red Lobster. Well, this was the first year we did not get to go to Red Lobster on the exact date, but we'll probably make it there later this week. Instead, we got to drive home on a sunny (and HOT) day, back to Traverse City, instead of hanging out in the pediatric cardio-thoracic intensive care unit. Mind you, I definitely wondered in some moment of time if we would be making the trip as a threesome. Celebrate!
Yesterday, however, was not necessarily a happy day for the families affected by the crash of the Survival Flight helicopter just 4 years ago, less than one year before Bernie came to Mott. On June 4, 2007, the University of Michigan Health System lost six heroes. These men, who died when their plane crashed into Lake Michigan after they had procured a pair of lungs for transplantation, will always be remembered for their dedication and selflessness.
Hours before this crash, one of the other pediatric cardiothoracic surgeons telephoned Dr. Jennifer Hirsch in the middle of the night and called off a heart transplant which she was to harvest via survival flight. He claimed it didn't feel like the right match and told her to go back to sleep. She would have been on that same plane that went down had the transplant taken place. The plane sat grounded until the team remembered yesterday boarded. Their story affects our story. And so we remember, too.
And we celebrate our homecoming yesterday with coffee on the back deck.
Thank you for sharing our joy as we come home for summer. We look forward to seeing you at all the fun summer activities in which we plan to partake. Your messages of happiness, support, and love mean more than you know. It's great to be home!
