Dr. Monday and I were conducting our clown rounds yesterday, when we were motioned into a room by one of the nurses. We see a super sweet toddler looking quite small on his bed in the cardiac unit. He looks at us with wonder, but not changing his expression. We stay at the door. We maintain eye contact while the nurses and child life are gathered around him.
We take a few steps closer. He still stares at us. After about three minutes, he finally says “hi” to us, in a plaintive voice. This feels like an invitation to move a little closer, so we do. He says hi again. At this point, we realize that the team has been tasked with drawing blood on this tiny patient. His veins are small. He is alone. We inch closer, ever mindful of any shift in his interest in having us come closer. His eye contact doesn’t waver.
Finally, we are at the bedside, me playing music and Monday floating his feather in the air. The staff is inclusive of our presence. They are diligent in their efforts to complete the task at hand with minimal disruption to the child. They ask us to move to the other side of the bed so the kid will turn his head away from the work they are doing. We comply, and begin to do a bit more physical comedy - but still quite muted. We are constantly reading the moment - looking for a sign that we should leave, but it doesn’t come. Finally, we start to leave anyway and the nurse says, ‘can you please stay five more minutes’.
This moment is such a gift for us, validation that we are not just the ‘funny folks’, we are part of the circle of care surrounding this child with all the tools in the toolkit in service of making this difficult moment less painful for him. During the entire exchange, he never takes his eyes off of us, even when he winces as the needle prick happens. It feels as though the focus is helping him get through it. The way the care team kept checking in with us gave the moment great focus and permission to do the work we strive to do. When the moment is done and the staff all breathes together, the kid pulls his arm out of the blanket and says ‘hi’ again and blows us a kiss.
