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Friday, July 12, 2019

Chapter 11: Lincoln’s Birthday


From Take Care of My Child…for a While by Joyce Sawyer

We arrived on Lincoln’s birthday [1976]. Dr. Wilbur, the head of the Oncology unit, met us at the door. I must say, I was impressed.

Stanford Children’s Hospital is a live-in hospital. Unlike the hospital in Kansas City, the parents all eat together in the Day Room. The food is sent up in big containers. Any child, able to get out of bed, can eat in the Day Room with his family.

Parents also do as much of the care as they wish. This included giving medications and watching the IVs. the charts are always open to the parents. If there are any questions about what is written, a doctor or nurse will answer it. There are no secrets in this hospital. Sometimes I wished I didn’t know so much; the knowledge was painful.

Now there were days of tests. Sometimes these were painful, and Ricky called the technicians “stupid idiots.” At first, I was really embarrassed, but then I realized Ricky needed some outlet for his frustration and pain. I was sure the hospital staff had heard worse than that.

At times I would tell Ricky he could scream as loud as he wanted, but that he couldn’t move. Lying still was so crucial in getting those X-rays.

A few times people came in to Ricky’s room wanting information, or blood, or permission for another procedure, and they would ask, “Where is this boy’s mother?” I was startled by the question at first, but then realized that unless they had read the chart, they would not know that this Japanese boy had a Caucasian mother. I was afraid Ricky would be hurt by these remarks, but he took it as a joke and winked at me.

By the next week, all the tests showed no cancer in any part of the body … but the neck area. The neck vertebrae were all involved by this time.

Dr. Long called Dale and me into an office near Ricky’s room and explained that Ricky’s case had been discussed thoroughly by the cancer board, and it was decided the only thing left to do was to put Ricky in a halo cast and then try a different chemotherapy.

“New things are being discovered all the time, so just hold on.”

The halo cast consists of four screws drilled into the skull, attached to a metal ring around the head, with four metal posts attached that go onto a full body cast. Not a very pretty sight, but it had to be done. We were assured that Ricky would not feel the pins in his head. They would have to be cleaned around the pin twice a day to avoid infection.

The surgery was set. It was to be at the big Stanford Hospital. Dale came down to be with us. Darwan Mann from the Palo Alto Christian Church came to give us moral support. After that he visited us regularly in the hospital and made arrangements for me to get to church on Sunday mornings.

People would ask, “Who is that man who comes to see you and Ricky?”

I would say, “That is my minister.”

Then they would ask, “How did he know you were here?”

And I would answer, “I called him.” They were always surprised at that.

The surgery went well, but it took longer than we expected. Darwan had to leave and Dale had to leave for home. Soon all the daytime hospital help left, too. I stayed to ride to Children’s Hospital in the ambulance with Ricky.

I waited and waited. I tried to find someone to tell me if Ricky was still in recovery or if the ambulance had left without me.

It was past time for me to eat, and I had run down to the next floor to get a sandwich from a machine. I thought maybe I had missed him. Finally, a Red Cross worker told me that Ricky was still in recovery.

When they wheeled him out, I had to put my head down to keep from fainting. I thought I was ready, but it was still a terrible shock to see those pins screwed into Ricky’s head and those steel bars attached. I swallowed hard to keep from being sick, and I took hold of Ricky’s hand and walked beside the gurney to the ambulance.

Chapter 12 to follow