My family and I had a little unexpected medical adventure this week. On Sunday, what started as an odd-looking rash on my daughter's lower legs in the morning had progressed by nightfall to something scary-looking enough for me to take her to the ER at Highland Park Hospital. They were concerned enough there to send us on an ambulance ride, our first ever, to Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago. As it turns out she was suffering from a relatively rare blood disorder that caused her body to attack it's own platelets. Over the course of that one day, her platelets dropped from their previously normal levels to a dangerous low. She had two days of treatment at Children's, returned home this afternoon, will be going to school tomorrow and is expected to recover fully over the course of the next few weeks.
I am grateful. Grateful beyond measure, beyond words, beyond everything in the world, that there is nothing seriously wrong with my little girl. Grateful for the docs at HP Hospital for recognizing that the situation required special care and sending us to the best possible place. Grateful for the incredible doctors and nurses at Children's for their compassion, their kindness, their attention to detail and their fine command of the English language (versus "doctorspeak") to explain what was going on and where we go from here. I am grateful to the extraordinary pool of volunteers at Children's. I was shocked at the number of adults, both young and old, male and female, that give of themselves manning the playrooms and walking the hallways bearing toys and smiles. Lastly, I am grateful to my friends both old and new. I know if this adventure had continued any longer, I wouldn't have to worry about food or childcare for the kids at home. I am grateful.
If you are not a blood donor, please consider becoming one. My husband and I have been blood donors for years, figuring that donation is a quick and easy way for us to give something of value. I confess that the number of my donations has seriously dropped off over the last year or two. Not Steve's though -- every eight weeks, rain or shine, he faces the needle. Well, nothing like an experience like this to put a face on the value of donation. For starters, the medication Lizzie received would not be possible without donor platelets. Furthermore, I watched last night as Lizzie's roommate, a 17 year old girl in the middle of the fight for her life, received an infusion of couple of pints of donor blood into her cancer-weakened body. By morning, a little bit of her strength had returned. For those who give, I am grateful.