I must have been eight or nine-years-old when I went to a regular orthopaedic check-up at Crumlin children’s hospital in Dublin. I went with my mom and sister, and can still remember the examination hall and the bed I sat on that day. I remember my doctor coming in.
He smiled, but I just scowled.
He started by asking my mother how I had been since the most recent surgery. I had the surgery because I had scoliosis. I had two titanium rods put in my back at the age of seven. And, until I was 12, I had to have them lengthened every six months. My mother said I was doing great (I really was; I am a fast healer so I was pretty much back to normal). He opened the computer and brought up my X-rays, which showed I was making good progress.
Then he asked me how I was feeling.
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I was very annoyed I couldn’t play on the slide in the local park, like my schoolfriends could. So, I said he had ruined my life.
He had not ruined my life. I said it without thinking and I still remember the looks on my mother and sister’s faces. They were mortified. I didn’t think I had said anything wrong. As far as I was concerned, I was stating the facts, and he was the reason I was struggling to walk. At that age, I really couldn’t understand why I struggled and my classmates didn’t, and that made me feel so resentful sometimes.
My mother told me to apologise. I refused. He just smiled and said he was sorry I couldn’t do what my friends could. He was a kind man. At the time I thought he was to blame for my situation, and I felt happy and a little proud that I had said something.
In my head, the only person who deserved blame was my spinal surgeon.
Recently, I decided to get copies of my old paediatric medical files from when I was a long-term patient in one of the best hospitals for children in Ireland, Our Lady’s Hospital, Crumlin. The process was easy enough. I rang the hospital and was put through to the patient advocacy department. I was told to email the department with some information (name, date of birth, home address, etc) and the reason why I wanted the copies. It took four weeks to get the copies.
I got pages and pages of paperwork about medications and procedures, but I was more interested in what the doctors said about me as a person. The one thing that kept coming up was about how I was an independent and stubborn young girl who loved to chat with everyone and that I never let my physical difficulties hold me back. The thing that stood out the most was that when my surgeon wrote about me, he called me his “friend” (nine-year-old Emma would be furious to hear this).
It brought the memory of what I had said to him back so vividly and I couldn’t shake the feelings of shame and guilt.
I decided to write a letter to him. To be honest, I tried to write him a letter a few times over the years, but for some reason I could rarely get past the first two lines. Or when I did get past those lines, I couldn’t send it. I still felt embarrassed.
But I was determined to write a good letter because I wanted him to know he hadn’t ruined my life at all. He gave me a better one.
I’ve grown to admire my younger self. She stood up for herself and proved repeatedly that she was made of strength and determination
I never expected an acknowledgment and when I got an email back, it was coincidently the day before another surgery (I had a hip replacement this year and it was a success). I thought he would have remembered the rude, surly Emma, but he said he never thought that of me. He thought I was a great and strong kid. He wished me well with the surgery and was glad I was finally having it because he was aware of how long I was waiting for it. When I recovered from the operation, I reread the email.
It has healed my inner child a bit and has taken a lot of the shame and guilt away.
If you have ongoing health issues, you come to a sort of understanding with your doctors and nurses. They get to know you and learn about what type of person you are. Like a lot of sick kids spending a lot of time in hospitals, I and my team of doctors eventually came to a mutual understanding. They knew I wouldn’t take surprise very well (I would feel ambushed), so they always let me know their plans. They were always willing to answer every question. They had no problem repeating their answers and they took how I felt about everything into consideration.
After all these years, despite my embarrassment, I’ve grown to admire my younger self. She stood up for herself and proved repeatedly that she was made of strength and determination.
She made sure every person she met knew she wasn’t going to be treated any differently just because she had a disability.
I hope every child in hospital feels that empowered. So thank you Dr Patrick Kiely. You definitely did not ruin my life. I wouldn’t have the life I have now if you didn’t fix my back. I will always be grateful.