Mom, don’t freak out at the title (or anyone else). Life in Ukraine is good. The last 24 hours seem to have been a flashback to a life in the Emergency Department. Yesterday while babysitting Abbie, I shared with my teammates that prior to work in the ER, I had very minimal interaction with kids. I wasn’t the babysitter, I had barely changed a diaper before it being a patients, learning how to console kids happened while they were on a stretcher or waiting for mom or dad to be done with a test or procedure. I remember holding a 3 year old on my hip in a trauma bay, waiting for parents to show up while answering phone calls from doctors. I remember when it was a good sign that kids were screaming, because that meant they were breathing. I remember using apple juice, graham crackers and peanut butter as meals and consolation. Gloves became toys. Tegaderm became magic stickers. IV caths were hoses for their bodies to drink for them from their arm. Pediatric IV sets became imaginary fish tanks where good medicine was swimming around. Yesterday while spending a peaceful few hours with Abbie, our contact’s daughter, I was reminded of all of this. It was peaceful to have the chance to follow around a healthy little girl, or watch her marvel at the rocks one by one on the driveway. It was sweet to imagine what was running through her head when we walked the entire property line, her hand clasped around two of my fingers. It was easy to hand her a sippy of juice just because, instead of as a consolation. It was serene to sit in the chair with her on my lap and watch Cars, or sing along with the Veggie Tales. I remember having patients come to us in various states. I remember trying to speak calmness, as they were in a situation that was out of their control. I remember stroke patients coming in and being completely scared, or heart attack patients who were just hanging out on the stretcher watching the organized chaos happening around them. Last night while holding Alesandra’s hand, I felt her skin under my thumb and just flashed back to the numerous times I had done the same with patients, but with the purpose of finding an IV site. Comforting doesn’t look like it used to. Speaking peace may not be happening in a life or death situation. There isn’t always the urgency anymore. But then this morning while running with Jenny, a song by Leeland came on my ipod. “There are many prodigal sons. On our city streets they run, searching for shelter. And there are homes broken down, people’s hopes have fallen to the ground from failure. This is an emergency. There are tears from the saints for the lost and unsaved. We’re crying for them come back home. And all your children will stretch out their hands and pick up the crippled man. Father, we will lead them home. There are stores full of hatred, even churches have forsaken love and mercy. May we see this generation in a state of desperation for your glory. This is an emergency.
