I'm just about ready to put a bullet in my Jeep after the recent headaches it's putting me through. First the whole brake system needed replacement, then a belt pulley all but broke, and in the last few days I am hearing a new noise under the hood. I'll be very frustrated if I have to pay for much more here lately to repair my Jeep.
Last Wednesday I had a special opportunity to visit someone. Classmate Janette McVey, currently on pediatrics, informed me that Edward, the African refuge child I cared for during my inpatient month, had a well child visit on November 14th. She told me he and his family would really like me to stop in and pay a visit. After clearing it with my chief resident last week while on inpatient, I was able to drive over to Green Meadows post-call and surprise Edward by walking into his exam room.
Edward greeted me by walking! He is completely without need of a walker or cane now, and easily sauntered to me and hugged me as I knelt to grab him in a big embrace. His mom quickly jumped up with her digital camera and snapped a few photos of us. As I stood up Edward continued to simply lean his body against mine while I rested my arm around him. "So this is the beloved physician," their refuge case worker commented, saying that Edward has been expecting me to show up at clinic. Few things have been as wonderful to hear as that.
Edward got his exam, and had his vaccinations administered while I held his hand. I sat on the floor beside him while his sister had her checkup, letting him embrace my arm while holding my hand. Occasionally he would test his strength by trying to wrestle my arm, and occasionally I'd let him win. His mom showed me some pictures from Halloween, and of family activities, and snapped a few more of us. I gave her my email so she could send me some pictures soon. After an hour I reluctantly said my goodbyes and hugged Edward once more, and promised to keep up with them. I still don't speak French, and Edward manages only a handful of animal names and some numbers and abc's, but we understand each other when we touch. Touch is good medicine.
Last Wednesday I had a special opportunity to visit someone. Classmate Janette McVey, currently on pediatrics, informed me that Edward, the African refuge child I cared for during my inpatient month, had a well child visit on November 14th. She told me he and his family would really like me to stop in and pay a visit. After clearing it with my chief resident last week while on inpatient, I was able to drive over to Green Meadows post-call and surprise Edward by walking into his exam room.
Edward greeted me by walking! He is completely without need of a walker or cane now, and easily sauntered to me and hugged me as I knelt to grab him in a big embrace. His mom quickly jumped up with her digital camera and snapped a few photos of us. As I stood up Edward continued to simply lean his body against mine while I rested my arm around him. "So this is the beloved physician," their refuge case worker commented, saying that Edward has been expecting me to show up at clinic. Few things have been as wonderful to hear as that.
Edward got his exam, and had his vaccinations administered while I held his hand. I sat on the floor beside him while his sister had her checkup, letting him embrace my arm while holding my hand. Occasionally he would test his strength by trying to wrestle my arm, and occasionally I'd let him win. His mom showed me some pictures from Halloween, and of family activities, and snapped a few more of us. I gave her my email so she could send me some pictures soon. After an hour I reluctantly said my goodbyes and hugged Edward once more, and promised to keep up with them. I still don't speak French, and Edward manages only a handful of animal names and some numbers and abc's, but we understand each other when we touch. Touch is good medicine.