The Worst Kind of Pain

I am writing this from a hospital room at Dayton Children’s Medical Center where my son, Joshua, is recuperating from surgery. In the last two years since we brought him home from China he has gone through so much. He has been hospitalized five times and undergone four major surgeries. He lived for eight weeks with a Spica cast that completely immobilized him from the chest down. And he has had more IV’s, needle sticks, tests, and painful procedures than I would care to list.

Through all these ordeals he has been a stoic little guy. He endures it all with only the occasional tear and very little complaining. In fact, he has had several experiences that would likely have left me in tears, and he has endured them with quiet dignity. But with all of this heroism, he was reduced to sobbing by an event early this morning that shows what really scares him.

After surgery he was placed into the PICU here at Children’s for close monitoring. This is a wonderful hospital that is extremely friendly to the families of their patients, but the PICU is less friendly than other areas of the hospital out of necessity. Since that ward focuses on more severe cases, the rooms are set up for monitoring equipment but very few conveniences. Refrigerators and bathrooms are not in the room, but down the hall. This is understandable, but difficult for the parents who are staying with their children.

This morning, Joshua was resting comfortably and watching TV. I explained to him that I needed to go down the hall to use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face, but I would be back in a few minutes. I left, took care of that business, and returned to the room about seven minutes after I left. When I was 30 feet away from the room I heard his cries and rushed to his side.

It turns out that he fell asleep and awoke a moment later, but in his medicated state he thought that he had been asleep for much longer. When he realized that I still wasn’t back in the room, he thought that I had left him there alone and gone home. He was sobbing and it took a little while to calm him down and assure him that I was only gone for a few moments and would never leave him alone and go home.

After he was sleeping peacefully again I had time to reflect on what had occurred. Joshua, who had endured so much pain and trauma without complaint or breakdown, was reduced to sobbing tears because he thought he had been left alone. And, once again, I realize how important family is for all children.

Children can learn to survive and endure through adversity and pain. They do it every day. But no child should have to face those things without a family. No child should have to live day after day without someone who cares about them and shares their trauma. No child should ever wake up and know they are alone. And the Church of Jesus Christ should not rest as long as there are children who are experiencing that worst kind of pain.

Jesus, please hold those children who are without a family. Comfort those who will awake alone and afraid tonight. And please awaken and empower your church to be your hands, arms, feet, and voice.