As a parent, moments in life are etched into your memory with a blend of immense joy and love. Yet, there are also times when life takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself rushing to a hospital with your little one. Nothing can prepare you for the emotional roller coaster that ensues.
It was a typical Friday noon when my six-year-old complained that he didn’t feel well. Initially, we dismissed it as a passing discomfort; however, the wee one went into a vomiting frenzy within 10 minutes, his face flushed red from the high temperature.
Walking through those sterile hallways and waiting for less than two minutes to see the paediatrician seemed like an eternity. As soon as my child’s vitals were taken, the doctor gave orders to the nurses, and they began to administer an IV drip after laying him on a bed.
Seeing your child in pain is a unique kind of heartache. Their usual playful energy, replaced by a look of discomfort and pain, shatters any parent’s emotional armour. Time becomes a relentless adversary, and the minutes drag on as you grapple with the unknown.
As a father, the desire to shield your child from pain clashes with the harsh reality that sometimes, you can’t control everything. This manifested in this hospital visit. Throughout his six years on this good earth, my kid put on a brave face whenever he fell ill and went to the hospital. He was no stranger to IV drips. But this time was different. He was in severe pain. He begged me to take him home. He cried softly and continuously.
The emotional toll of watching your child in pain is indescribable. The vulnerability of their small frame on the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment, intensifies the sense of powerlessness. The urge to trade places with them, to absorb their pain, becomes a silent prayer echoing in the recesses of your mind.
The hardest part, perhaps, is putting on a brave face for your child. You become a pillar of strength, a beacon of reassurance, even when your heart is heavy with worry. The forced smiles and soothing words are your armour against the fear and angst that consume you.
After a 2-hour nap on a hospital bed that seemed like an eternity, his temperature went down. Frail as he is, his soul reappeared, assuring us that he was better by poking his mother’s elbow – a sign that he is in a playful mode. His bed rest continued until the medical staff administered antibiotics and glucose and a visit to the pharmacy before we went home.
I always looked up to my father, but since my kid came to life, I found myself looking up to him, especially after we celebrated his first birthday. His inquisitive nature, playfulness, and wit never cease to amaze me, but most importantly, his outgoing personality, kindness, courage, and shying away into a corner or his bed when he is not feeling well, as if I or his mother would not notice it.
Long live and prosper, my son. May the Lord hold you in His hand, and may he never close His fist too tight.