Strep Stay

Ecolab® makes Endure Foam Hand Soap that strangely brings me peace of mind. I’ve used the soap countless times at the local hospital, and at one in Indianapolis over the last 3 years. Each time I scrub in between my fingers, I look in the mirror and study how much I’ve aged, maybe only since the time of admission. But using the soap reminds me that we’re in a place where people can do much more than I can.

Cyrus caught the bug in February. He caught it, and then it went on to wrestle him to the ground, hold him there for 5 days, and allow us to meet our health insurance deductible by March 1.

He is not a good patient. He has terrible bedside manners and zero tolerance for strangers telling him that if he doesn’t lift his tongue for the thermometer, they’ll have to place it elsewhere. He is more like an old man who stares out the window thinking about all the things he could be getting done at home, and when the medical team comes to see him, he’s resentful towards them, modern medicine, and cherry-flavored ibuprofen.

Day one in the hospital revealed some real pent-up hostility he held towards his mother. Part of the reason we were admitted was dehydration due to his inability to keep anything down. At 11:00 one night, after another long episode of trying to get the bug out, he was flat angry about the taste in his mouth (who can blame him?).

“This is because of you, Mommy!” he yelled in a fit of rage, loud enough to wake the neighbors in room 536.

“What? Buddy? Mommy isn’t making you throw up. Honey, I’m here to take care of you, get you better…” I continued while I tried to wipe his face with a wet washcloth.

“No!” he yelled. “You never pack my lunch on beefy nacho day. Never! And I have to eat the beefy nachos and then I have a yucky taste in my mouth. All Day! Just like this!” tears rolling down his little red face.

I sat there on the bedside stroking his hair, wondering if I should laugh or cry, and deciding to stay quiet. I’m not convinced his lashing out on my lunch packing, or lack thereof, wasn’t part of a twisted fever dream, but I will tell you this: Cyrus has not eaten school lunch on beefy nacho day since.

On our second day in the hospital, the nurse was apparently just as worn out as us. She walked into the room with her cart of meds and tools.

“Ohhhhkay Cletus, I’m just here to check on a few things,” she said.

Cletus?

He looked at her with a furrowed brow so deep, we could have planted the 2024 corn crop in it.

I asked that she repeat the name she used to ensure she wasn’t administering something to 5-year-old Cyrus that should have gone to 85-year-old Cletus. It was a simple misreading of his chart. But he didn’t acknowledge her or her questions the entire routine examination.

Day three in the hospital is when he finally turned a corner and began eating and keeping things down. That afternoon Cyrus asked if we could take a walk outside. We were denied, which was devastating for this farm kid, but they did allow us to walk around the floor. Before departing he was insistent that he change his clothes, out of his hospital gown. He wanted his cowboy boots, jeans and a belt on. After repeatedly telling me that he couldn’t leave the room looking like that, and me repeatedly asking him why, he exclaims, “Mommy! I can’t walk around the hospital like this! People will think I’m a doctor!”

Cyrus Sankey, not to be confused with Dr. Cyrus Sankey

I assured him no one, and I do mean no one, would think he was a doctor.

Cyrus is back home, and as I write this, I'm watching him use a toy excavator to dig holes into the patch of lawn where Daddy has just sewn grass seed. He made it through the early stomach bug of 2024, will he make it through spring? We shall see. 

 

A Stay in Room 539

I knew he didn’t feel well when he wouldn’t stop crying. 

I knew he really didn’t feel well when he wouldn’t eat. 

Two weeks ago, I made an after-hours phone call to the pediatric center about our (then) 6-week old son. The nurse could hear his labored breathing over the phone and recommended I take him to the ER to be checked out. Cody was somewhere west of the Mississippi, so I quickly packed a diaper bag and dropped Caroline off at my parents; I thought I’d be back in a couple of hours. 

Despite a full – I’m talking standing room only – waiting room, the ER staff got him right into an exam room. 

That evening, and the days that followed, reiterated that God has a creative way of teaching. 

Empathy

Be kind, for very person you encounter is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Cyrus and I had only been in the exam room thirty minutes before I heard something I’ll never forget. A man and a woman screamed painfully and loudly for their mother. Over and over and over again. And then weeping, sobbing, mourning. That night, in the small room next to ours, a family lost their mother. From that moment I knew we could face anything the doctor was about to determine on our little boy. 

Strangers

Hebrews 13:2:

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. 

Four hours later Cyrus was admitted, and by default I was, too. We got into an actual inpatient room at 3:30 AM. Cyrus was finally asleep and I wanted so badly to join him. I was so surprised by how awake, friendly and active the nurses were. I guess had forgotten there is an entire species that works diligently and tirelessly while I am home sound asleep. I’m thankful for those folks who work off of a very different clock than I. When I was at my worst: worried, exhausted, and hungry (shocking, I know), these people made me feel at ease. And they brought me a 4:00 AM snack. I will never view nurses in the same way again, because they do so much more. 

 

Loneliness

Deuteronomy 31:6

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

“This has got to be the loneliest place on earth, and still, they won’t leave us alone,” I thought to myself on the second night at Reid. For four days and three nights I only put Cyrus down if they had to change his IV, during the spinal tap or if I was in the bathroom. But even with his tiny body close, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so lonely. This experience offered a whole new perspective regarding those who spend much time in a hospital or those with sick children. There was constant beeping, checking, monitoring, waking, adjusting, and prodding, still I felt like we were a million miles from home or anyone we knew. I was a mere 25 minutes from home and husband. 

But on day three flowers arrived. 

A middle-aged lady brought flowers to our room on Friday. She said it was part of “Random Acts of Flowers” where strangers pay to have flowers randomly delivered in hospitals. Let me tell you: it was like being back on the farm in Economy and Christy Herr, our veterinarian, showing up with one of her beautiful, home-grown arrangements. It was then that the kindness dissolved the loneliness I’d felt while stuck in room 539 for (then) 64 hours.  

This was our view one evening from room 539

RSV, rhino virus and double ear infections kept us at the hospital for four days. He’s well on the mend now and growing wildly fast despite a few setbacks. 

Day Four: Over It. 

Before Cyrus was born I prayed every night for a healthy baby. After my prayers were answered I’m not sure I thanked God adequately. I sat awake one night in room 539 wondering: When was the last time I truly, tirelessly, wholeheartedly thanked God for two healthy children?

It reminds me of that question: What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday? 

Eight weeks in to life with a son, and I’ll never make that mistake again. I will also never pack a diaper bag with without a toothbrush and deodorant…but that is a column for another week.