Consults:
Believe me when I say that this might be the best thing I have ever read on a blog, ever. I'm going to be up all night thinking about this.
sometimes life just sucks!
Prepare thyself doctor... prepare thyself.
I am at a loss for words.
The pain. Both physical and mental.
I cannot even imagine.
Wow that was an amazing story. It never ceases to amaze me how life can change in an instant. In your profession I imagine yours changes right along with the news you have to deliver. This was a powerful story as I am sure it was an even more powerful experience. That little girl and you will be in my prayers.
Be Blessed and Be a Blessing.
Mike
Thanks for sharing this so clearly....
My heart breaks. My son is seven and I can't even let myself think of him in that moment.
I've sat here staring at this comment box for ten minutes now. I can't even put into words what is happening in my mind and heart.
My prayers are with that little girl.
You"re right, there are no words, but you did the best that could be done. You have left us all with much to think about.
Wow.
Thank you for putting it into words.
I too am at a loss for words. Jack is almost 7, and I cannot imagine him being faced with something like that. Even worse, if it were Jenelle left behind, who would take care of her? Would she really even know?
I read it on another special needs blog somewhere... being a special needs Mom should automatically mean that we become immortal. That we should outlive our children and the care they need.
Prayers for this family so tragically torn apart.
Why bad things happen to good people? You can't really answer that question.
I can say that I hope she understand and is told that God is standing next to her holding her while she goes through this. That isn't an easy thing to hear, especially when you are probably mad at God for taking your loved ones.
She is in my prayers. You are in my prayers. My heart breaks that you have to see so much pain, my love bug. But my heart rejoices that children like this little gal will be touched by your compassion and love. I'm proud to have you as my daughter. I can't stop crying from this post. I love you. Mom
Right now the unthinkable has happened to this little girl. Nothing can make things all better for her right now.
I am from the other side, I adopted my child. I know that was such a happy event for me. She is such a wonderful little girl. She has made all the difference to me. But in order for her to have been available some horrible thing must have happened. She was not a baby. An international adoption, no records, vague hints of disaster, a child so young, so many scars inside and out, nightmares...you can only guess.
Something very terrible has happened to your patient but she can be happy again. My daughter is.
Please tell me this child has someone, somewhere. Aunt, uncle, grandma, cousin....someone!
I'm sure that as well as you described this, it's still only 1/2 as powerful as that moment.
From my perspective, it's almost incomprehensible.
Thanks for being the person you are.
Oh my........god that is horrible, I can't even imagine. I would have lost it myself. Please, I hope that there is some sort of family for that little girl.
it is so very sad, lump in my throat, tears in my eyes.....
OMG, what a tragedy. I'm heartbroken. I hope there was some family somewhere for this little one.
I had to come back later to comment. I was crying too much the first time. I let a friend from school read over my shoulder... she cried too. I think this is every mother's worst nightmere...
OMG. That is all I can say with tears in my eyes. OMG.
OK, I had to de-lurk on this one. Powerful stuff. You translated that look perfectly and tenderly.
Don't know how long I've been lurking, but I love the range of stories you have.
I try to think of being 6 and having that news, and I can't, really. I think she will take a long time to understand and mourn, in some ways all her life. Maybe she's mourning now only as much as she's able while her body heals.
I think what most of us want to know, though, is...what happened then? Did anyone come to give her a home? And is there anything we can do...a fund for her? Though I suppose you would have to worry about confidentiality, in that case? I hope at least she's not left alone.
sweet jesus.
What a touching account of both loss and strength. I wonder what thoughts were wandering through the chambers of her mind...
Thanks for sharing...
I had just previously posted a blog, bemoaning my luck after a dental appointment! My gosh. I am ashamed.
I printed a link to this blog-entry - hope you don't mind, and one of my readers asked me to convey her deepest feelings to you (rebmicel couldn't get onto the Comments page)and that precious,little bundle.
oh, god in heaven, i reach your blog for the first time coming from liza doolittle's - what a start.
flashback: intensive care, eight years ago, almost to the day. i'm lying there, drugged to the gills but still hurting after a one or two operations, looking up at my parents. no idea how many days have passed since the car accident, can't be that many - two, three? days in which i've been asking about my little sister whenever i was conscious enough to remember her. my father's shoulder is a big mess but he's accounted for- but where is she? they don't know, in another hospital maybe... they're not convincing those nurses, but i currently have such a short attention span, i'm not in a state to get to the bottom of the matter. i'm looking up and they're looking down, and before my mother opens her mouth i can see it in their eyes that i really really really don't want to hear her answer. but she does answer, because she has to say it, because it's time she did, after the docs browbeat her -possibly with good reason- into keeping the news from me until i'd safely gone through that first operation for a broken L5. this is very cliché now but it feels as if i had been standing on sand and it is now giving way from under me, trickling away very fast, and i'm falling into a deep hole, very fast, and i can't come out again because the walls are trickling sand, no hold. one great big bad joke, fifteen-year-old girls don't die in car accidents, she was going to start high school the next day...
eight years on. i've healed physically and moved away from home and to another country, studied and collected diplomas in two different countries. i've met my boyfriend and had years full of adventures and laughs with him, i plan and hope to have many more. my parents have been though their own hell and found their own peace. we've "healed" and we've "moved on", as the kind souls promised us, though i could have bitten their heads off when they suggested something like that at the time. actually... we've scabbed would be more exact. and we went on, because what else exactly are you supposed to do?
that little girl will survive and thrive and have a beautiful life. even though it seems impossible to all the adults surrounding her now. she will collapse at times under the weight of the grief but she will get up again, and again, and again. because she is a survivor, because she has already been through the worst and come out again, wiser than most people will ever be in a lifetime. because the memories of her loved ones will support her, surround her, straighten her back, and hold her hand on the road.
I found your blog through Fayola's page. This post is beautiful. I've linked to your blog from my page. Thanks for sharing this.
I came to you from Fighting Monsters with Rubber Swords...so glad that I did. This is heartbreaking and beautiful. Do you suppose children are like this because they trust the adults around them when they say it's going to be all right...even death...will be all right in the end?
Also over from Rob's blog. I'm grateful that you write this stuff, keep writing. I wish my little boy had more doctors like you.
For situations and moments like those is that I hate (even though I love) pediatrics...I spent 2 months as a pre-intern (they don't have those in the US) at a children's hospital very excited because I absolutely love children, but I had never seen a child die before that time. I can't even remember the amount of children that died during those two months, but 2 of them have stayed in my mind since.
Now I'm an intern and in a month and a half I'll be back at that children's hospital for my pediatrics rotation, excited about it and yet dreading the very thought of it.
Wow, just found your blog and have sat here reading and reading and reading (there are so many other things I should be doing).
Your stories are amazing and heartwarming and so so well written.
I bet blogging is so good for your soul and reading it is good for mine.
Thanks Danielle
Narelle 
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