The City and Children's Hospital

Yesterday we took Buckaroo to an appointment at Children's Hospital in Seattle. I think it was yesterday. Time does strange things when you're tired and anxious and then tired and relieved. Buckaroo has a condition called hydronephrosis in his kidneys. It sounds scary to me, but its currently not a really big deal. We were just getting an ultrasound and check-up. Things look good, according to the good doctor.

Seattle Children's Hospital is an amazing place. It is in a nice neighborhood not far from UW. Coincidentally, it is right down the road from where I used to work at the regional branch of the National Archives. When we first had to go there with Buckaroo, I knew exactly how to get there because I drove past it for years. Every day for years I watched people get on and off the bus to go there - nurses, doctors, patients, visitors. So VERY strange one day to be driving in the driveway with my own tiny baby for a very important appointment. Ugh. Anyway. That was way back a million years ago when he was a newborn. A whole other blog post, really.

But, again, its an amazing place. Its setting is very lush, very landscaped. Back when the construction was proposed the neighborhood required that the hospital maintain a lot of leafy landscaping to sort of make it blend in to the rest of the neighborhood. Neighbors didn't want to stare at a big, busy building. And it works. The landscaping makes for a peaceful setting. And I'm grateful for any bit of peace of mind I can get when we're there.

Everyone is very nice. Everyone is very considerate. They're not sing-songy or pitying; they're calm but they aren't steeled and distant like you sometimes find at other hospitals. There are murals and fishtanks and gorgeous light fixtures everywhere. The way they do the whole administrative, computery, please-sign-here junk is smooth, not overwhelming. Thank heavens.

While there, I find myself taking in my surroundings and seeing all the other folks and kids while trying not to absorb too much about them. I don't want to know why they are there. I've plastered a trying-to-stay-calm smile on my face. I jiggle my knee. I check the clock. I kiss Buckaroo over and over. He's focused on drooling. Husband walks him around. I dig in my purse for nothing.

What one cannot help but notice is that all kinds of folks are there. Mother Nature's challenges spare no one. Families of all creeds, colors, styles, shapes, sizes, dispositions, and constitutions. I feel like a weenie because I've nearly come undone with the journey we've been on, but there are those around me who are clearly facing vastly different and more difficult challenges. Children are resilient, miraculous. But they also show their emotions. You know when they're weary, when they're skeptical, when they're in pain. The parents' faces speak of love and determination, fear and uncertainty, patience and impatience. All I can do is pray for them. Wish them peace. Offer a smile. Try not to look too scared.

Our doctors have been amazing. The first one we saw, I was delighted to find, was a residency colleague of my college buddies. Both doctors we've seen have elaborated with more details, more medical-speak when we wanted it. I like that. I leave with the understanding that they truly are there for us when we need them. Prayers of gratitude, indeed.

I just heard today that Children's provides about $100 million in uncompensated care each year. Holy cow. What a phenomenon.

We also did all sorts of fun stuff when we were in town that I'd love to mention, but I must wrap this up. Here's a pic of Buckaroo and his dad on the porch last night. He seemed rather unphased by the happenings. Although today he is pretty pooped.
Look at those chubby cheeks. Look at that handsome dadda. Ahn.