Consults:
That is TOO sad. But can't at least her pain be taken away? No one should have to suffer pain in this day and age.
I didn't know you could be too young for chemo, and that is a relief to hear after having just gone through it myself. One of the many thoughts I had while I was in the hospital, was how could young children tolerate those side effects - the same I was going through with chemo.
We have to always remember to think of "quality" of life when it comes to special kids. I'll keep this family in my thoughts and prayers.
As the Mom of a 3 year old I can't even imagine what that family is going through. On one hand you wouldn't want to torture the child but you don't want to feel like if only we had done more.
I don't know how you do it. I would cry whenever I walked in. I just wanted to say thanks. The Dad may not ever say it but I am sure he will think it at some point. Thank you for being able to go in and do what needs to be done. Thank you for trying your best but knowing when to step back and breathe!
My heart breaks for that sweet little girl and for her family. Unfortunately, you can be too young for chemotherapy but not too young for cancer.
You are not "just like every other white coat" - you are able to see and feel this little girl's situation from both sides as best as you can and understand the perspective of her family. You don't see her just as those numbers that you read off of a page, you see her as a precious child and you struggle for her and her family. This makes you an extraordinary doctor - you truly care, you truly listen, you truly view the situation from both perspectives to the greatest of your ability, and you truly let your patients into your heart. That is reflected in all of the ways you have tried to ease her fears and offer her comfort. Sometimes life plays out the script regardless of whether you call out the warning or just play your role with all of your heart.
No more stories about people with 2 year-olds until James turns 3--July 18, so you know 
Although, I guess I can rest assured because I just asked him if he has a brain tumor and he very matter-of-factly said, "no". That's a relief. Now if he'd just pee in the potty...
Danielle - Bethany has it absolutely right and other than that am sending you hugs, wish I had some huge fluffy barricade to offer to protect you all from that awful bolder. Heartbreaking.
Oh my, that Schultz song still brings back so many memories from when it came out 8 years ago---rough song when you're watching it happen. I've watched many die and the cycles of coping with the process rarely change. The heart of a parent, the heart of a doctor---the child so small. It sucks. praying
In all honesty, this is a large part of the reason I could never become a doctor. I would say you are unlike many "white coats" I have known-- I can see your soul in these writings, and it gives me hope.
Bless you Danielle - childhood illnesses are just the pits for medical personnel and parents. Friends of mine lost the battle with neuroblastoma a year ago - they had wisely chosen to give their 8 year old child a spring and summer of being a real kid. Others make different choices - glad I don't have to choose for any of them. Sneak her some ice cream or her favorite jello - ticked me off when the hospital wouldn't feed my dying alzheimer's inflicted 84 year old father pizza every meal - it was what he liked - nutrition be da----. Whew - that boulder can do real damage - they are fortunate to have you on boulder patrol
My 30 year old brother had a brain tumor diagnosis this past summer and I lost a friend to a brain tumor that they just never could get all of several years ago when we were in our late 20s. I can't imagine watching a 2 year old endure the same thing and have no arsenal to attack it with.
Your writing always continues to amaze me. I feel as though I am in your heart and soul feeling what you are feeling, even though you use few words. How do you do that?
I rarely comment but just wanted to stop and say that your writing is always compelling, thought provoking, and moves me emotionally. You bring a perspective we need to hear. Your posts have caused me to re-think some things. Hopefully I'll never have to deal with the issues you see daily, but if I should I hope I have the heart you do.
I guess that sometimes we have to remember that the outward appearance doesn't always show the inward outrage.
I did learn this a bit when I worked for the head of Hem/Onc at UVa - but I think it bears reminding.
Thanks for helping us remember.
I never know what to say when you write things like this. You have words when there are know words.
Hugs? It's all I can offer
As a pediatric neuro nurse, I never get to see things from your side..Thanks for the reminder
Wow. You make me think about how difficult being a doctor is. We think about what we see on tv, but don't realize how hard it can be emotionally. Thank you for the reality check. Have you thought about getting a book deal?
Oh my gosh...those boulders. I think all we can do is help to lessen the destruction of what is to come, if that is even possible. As a nurse, I've seen it done right, and the dad will know you are by his side. I've also seen it done wrong and the parents feel totally alone. From your post though, I can tell that dad is probably already feeling you right beside him, shouldering as much of the burden as you can.
I don't know how well I'd do interacting with raw pain as you do every day. I hope you can keep your heart and your hope at the same time. I have four small children, one of whom has been fighting a nasty submandibular gland infection since before Thanksgiving. He is starting to get a little leery of the doctors' office, too!
Yours is the only blog I read that's written by someone I don't personally know. Truly amazing.
I don't know how you do what you do, and deal with sick children especially, without a box of kleenex every time you go home. My daughter has had to go to the hospital one time, and I could barely hold myself together for her IV. Yowzer. I will be praying for that little girl and for you.
Oh, how I wish you were my son's doctor right now.
His situation isn't life threatening, if we take care of it right now.
Please keep us posted. I'm sure I'm not the only one who will be thinking about her.
stumbled on your blog some time ago -- i'm a nurse in a area quite different than your area. however, i've got to say, you are a breath of fresh air... thanks for the humanity of it all. its what we all have, what joins us - mothers, doctors, kids, patients, nurses, friends. keep writing.
I am in awe of your ability to take the unimaginable and put it into words. Prayers to that little girl, her family and all the others that are too young to understand how horrible it really is. :/
come, Lord Jesus, come...bring your unsurpassed comfort and peace...
Praying for you, helping her and her frightened of you....you give us NEW ways to see things. Thank you for that.
Kind of flies in the face of "your best life now" junk...boulders happen; and being in-Christ is not a declaration that all is healthy/wealthy/honkey dorey. "In this world you will have tribulations." But boulders that roll on others often cause more pain than the boulders that overtake us. Bless you...
I have been reading your blog for a while now but never commented. You have a captivating style and subject matter and I always enjoy your posts.
My daughter had a stem cell transplant when she was 2. I saw many children lose their fight and there were parents that fought hard until the very last moment and then those that saw the inevitable and were able to stop fighting sometime before the end. All loved their children more than anything and all would have done anything to save their children. I wondered what type of parent I would be if my daughter hadn't made it. I would like to say that I would have been able to stop fighting and spare her some unnecessary pain but I'm not sure I would really have the strength when push comes to shove.
What an unbearable situation for parents and doctors. I appreciate the boulder and am glad I was never faced with it rolling in my direction.
I can't even begin to imagine... from any perspective--hers, his, yours. I have never seen my children suffer, but if I did, I'd want someone like you walking through this with us. Thank you for what you do.
Thank you for doing the amazing and difficult (and sometimes tedious and messy and frustrating and hearbreaking) work you're doing Danielle. You may be scary to some 2-year olds but you're very much appreciated by this almost 40-yr old who knows that your career choice takes courage and conviction many may not possess. Thank you. And thank you for sharing your stories here.
Have you read Gesundheit by Patch Adams? My boyfriend has a copy and you are inspiring me to read it.
Here is a review: http://positivesharing.com/2004/...iew-gesundheit/
I have never been running from the boulder but if I was, either as the child or as the parent, I am sure I would want to spend that time laughing, giggling and eating ice cream. Keep on, Danielle. We all thank you for it.
Thank you for the reminder that those in white coats sometimes care far more deeply than we know, than they cacn show. It's a great encouragement because we've all spent time at a bedside, feeling helpless.
I knew a little girl who died of leukemia. I remember her mom giving her a milkshake and hearing someone criticize the mom since that wasn't on the "diet." I doubt the mom regrets that milkshake now. More likely she wishes she had given a thousand more milkshakes.
Thank you for your amazing stories.
You are amazing, I can only hope the powers that be allow the baby find her way with the most peace and least pain.
And that her dad can find his way, too.
thank you, God, for not putting me in this postion.
My family has watch a wonderful little boy battle Neuroblastoma for 2.5 years only to lose his battle when he was five... the parents *KNOW* but it is sooo hard to get that message to their heart.
And the parents also know that you are not giving up on her, even though their hearts feel differently. In a few years they'll be able to look back and see that you did everything you could. But it doesn't make it any easier now, now it hurts, now the pain is unbearable...but someday...maybe not so much.
Such a sad scrappling to preserve every moment of happiness in that child's life. That is a very honorable thing to scrapple for.
You bless us with your stories and your thoughtful, heartful essence. You may be rambling off numbers, but I'm sure you radiate compassion and care with every patient. I'm so glad you're out there doing the brave work of medicine. Thanks.
My heart just aches because of stories like this... I honestly don't know how you do what you do, but can I just say, I am SO GLAD you do.
It's nice to know that a few of those "white coats" have an actual, beating, and feeling heart. Wish more were like you.
Being able to actually care about your patients is such a truly amazing quality. keep it!! Such a sad story as it is still though.
Wow. This truly might be one of my favorite posts you have ever written.
This from the guy trying to recover and help those recover from a boulder that I sent rolling in the first place.
hardest, most emotional job on the planet because Docs like you care about families and how pain hurts deep down. this post is causing me to go back to my four kidos rooms and kiss them goodnight...again.
that one got me. i have a 22 month old little girl with curly hair. my biggest fear is what you just described. thanks for sharing from the other side.
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