Last week, I wound up at a hospital for children. So you ask, why would a septuagenarian, a twice retired teacher and present preacher, go to a place where children are treated? To understand, we start at the beginning of the journey that ended at the Riley Hospital for Children in Indianapolis.
Many of you who read this blog know that I suffer from hearing loss, and that I have worn hearing aids for over twenty years. In August, after several instances where that loss seemed to be greater, I went back to Terre Haute to my audiologist to see what new technologies were on the market that might help me hear in my dotage. She, Polly by name, suggested another hearing test since that last one had been over four years ago. Jane and I fully expected to order new aids after that visit.
But such was not the case. After the test was over, Polly told us that the best option, since my hearing had deteriorated over the years, was to see if a cochlear implant would be feasible. Since we had checked into that about fifteen years ago (and been told I was not a suitable candidate at that time for the implant), we knew what was being suggested. The best place near us for such an evaluation was Riley Hospital for Children.
After a couple of weeks of sending papers back and forth, an appointment was made for October 3 and 4. This meant that two weeks of waiting to find out whether or not I was a good candidate for the procedure. That was two weeks of wondering if some doctor was going to drill another hole in my head!
A few words about the hospital before we get to the meat of the visit. Riley was named for James Whitcomb Riley, an Indiana poet who featured children in some of his work, and the hospital opened in 1924 as the first such facility in Indiana dedicated solely to the health of children. Riley Hospital ranks 11th among the 250 plus hospitals in the United States that treat children. One of their innovations was the first implant of a cochlear device in a child in Indiana in 1983. Because they do more implants for children than adults, it seemed simpler to continue have the facility located in the Children’s Hospital and serve the adults there.
Our first task was to find the hospital, which was not difficult, especially with the Jane’s GPS working. When we entered the facility, we were met with the most friendly of receptionists, who directed us to the audiology department, which we were to access via the Blue Elevators. However, I am convinced that this building was constructed using about half a dozen architects, who just threw the plans together. Several false starts later, we found the Blue, descended into the basement and located our destination.
Here we found Francia, who was quite cheerful and welcoming. We were expected, but still had to fill out the usual forms for their files. Sent back to a waiting room, we were eventually “introduced” to the usual patients for Riley. This would be duplicated the next day when we returned for a meeting with Kim, who would show us the type of implants the hospital used, so the following is a composite of those who waited with us.
Waiting with us was another older couple (he really looked old, at least 76!) also looking to be evaluated for an implant. Before long we has several children in the area, sometimes with whole families in tow. One especially memorable little girl was being looked after by her father, who was at least six-foot four, and she was fairly tiny. What was amazing was the gentleness he showed as he limited her activity to the prescribed area. She could do some signing, and even at an age of three had hearing aids. A couple of what looked like older teens or early twenties girls were signing back and forth, and by the time I was called back for my audio test, a couple more families with little ones had arrived. On one of the two times in this area, a very young Amish couple had brought their little girl for treatment, conveyed in one of the signature wagons for children. At Riley, they really do use the little red wagons for the kids, and at least three of those had been used to transport the small patients into the waiting area. Although never explicitly told what their ailments were, I was pretty sure their problems were a lot more serious than mine were.
Wendy came and escorted us back for the test, which was at least an hour of great frustration for me. These hearing tests were with the hearing aids in, and if grades were given, I got an emphatic “F” for them. This meant that, according to their guidelines, I was a good candidate for the implant
Waiting is no fun in a hospital. An MRI had been scheduled in the late afternoon, so we spend the next three and a half hours in the hospital, finding a comfortable place to sit and reading until the appointed time. We got a bite to eat, and I must say the quality of the food exceeded that which airlines serve. But not by much.
University Hospital was the venue for the MRI, and somehow that was not delayed; I got in early. Not wanting to subject you to the grueling test, I will just say that going in my confidence level was not high. Two young men were my escorts and technicians; neither was out of their teens! Well, that is an exaggeration, of course, one of them might have been in his early twenties, but both were younger than my twin grandsons. Yet all went well, as they conducted their work with professionalism and dispatch. Only about thirty minutes was set aside for this procedure.
That was it for the first day, so we ransomed our car from the parking garage and found our hotel for the night. The less said about that experience the better, as neither Jane nor I were impressed with the lodgings. Even if they “leave the light on”, we will not be looking for it in the future!
The next morning was set aside for a session with the surgeon who would, if all went as planned, actually implant the device into my head. I was really looking forward to this, as his name is Dr. Rick Nelson. Now, I am old enough to remember Ozzie and Harriet, and the younger son, Ricky Nelson, who was a huge rock star in the late ’50s and early ’60s, and this Rick Nelson was gracious enough to smile at my joke about singing, claiming he did not perform in public. Didn’t get to hear “Goodbye, Mary Lou” or Garden Party” but his bedside manner was enough to assure me he is as good in his field as any of the old rockers.
Dr. Nelson took us through the technical aspects of the cochlear and the implant, and even showed us on his computer the MRI of my head taken the previous afternoon. If the operation proceeds as planned, I feel I will be in good hands.
Another long waiting period ensued, where we again tried to find a good place to sit and read. Another trip to the food area proved our previous meal was not an exception to what we found. With some time before the next appointment, we were fortunate to find the library. Walking in, we were greeted with a cheery smile, and were shown a place to sit on overstuffed chairs where we could read or take a short nap, which I managed.
This visit ended with the decision on the hardware to be used. Riley used three different companies who make the implants, and Kim showed all of them to us, we selected the one which gave us the best options. Also we were told that my iPhone could be synched with the hearing aids so that any call could be streamed to the implant. Maybe in the future Jane will not need to make all my calls!
We made up for the hospital food on the way home, as we stopped at the Olive Garden and enjoyed a very good meal.
If you have read this far, some of you are probably wondering what the point of my relating this experience is. That is where we are now. There are a couple of very important points to make that would benefit all of us, as it has me. Also, this gives an opportunity to praise some of those who make life in middle America a little bit better.
First and foremost, quit your bellyaching about your lot in life. We saw so many of our fellow humans who are far worse off than we are. During our waiting periods, we were in several of the specialized areas for the children. Of course, in audiology, we saw children from ages two or three up to teens who were born with hearing disability or even completely deaf. These children must struggle each day to make it in a world that hears and many times does not empathize with such disabilities. We saw parents, worried over their children’s futures, and realized that both parents and kids were suffering as we do not, through no fault of theirs.
Children with braces on were taken in to see those who would work with them. We passed through the cancer area, where children with that dread disease would be treated in an effort to save their lives. A couple of times young children would be riding a bike in the hallways, each with a helmet on their heads to protect them from further injury.
A humbling experience it really was. All the aches and pains we have do not equal, sometimes, a day in the life of those really unfortunate as to their health. Perhaps the next time you are bemoaning your lot in life, you should take a trip to Riley (it is only about a hundred miles away) and watch these kids for whom life has been a continuing struggle to exist. If you don’t come away praising God for your good health, no matter what your health may be now, perhaps your soul needs reviving.
Another eye-opening experience was the staff of this hospital. According to their website, over 2000 people work there, and over 230 doctors are on staff. What we saw was an amazing and never broken stream of those who care for the kids. We saw nurses, doctors and staff take time and show great patience, not only for the children, but for the parents who love them. Even those who were older were treated as if we were special people. In the time we were there neither one of us found anyone who was surly or grouchy, and all were so very helpful to us.
We live in what has been termed “flyover country” by the elites of the two coasts, and have been looked down upon because of our much different lifestyles and values. But I challenge any on the East Coast or the West Coast to find a place filled not only with competent caregivers, but also with those who really care about those they serve. These special people deserve our accolades for what they do.
Several years ago we had occasion to go to St. Jude’s in Memphis, where we witnessed the same dedication and care for suffering children. But the recent experience at Riley Hospital for Children in Indianapolis found within us an appreciation for people who dedicate their lives to improve the lives of the most vulnerable among us.
If you ever hear me complaining about my aches and pains, about my lot if life, don’t ignore me. Just remind me forcefully that I have seen what real pain is, and I have been blessed in the life I have had,