The Latest Newsletters from Dr. Joe Barber
The Boston Marathon
Have you ever wondered why one person helps and another turns away? Although there will never be one answer to this question I do believe the power to choose is within each of us.
This past week I was called during the night to admit a child having trouble breathing due to asthma. She was two years old and was responding well to medication but needed to be hospitalized. After finishing the admission I returned to bed thinking about treatment options and as frequently happens could not fall asleep. I went downstairs for a cup of tea to allow my mind to settle. I usually sit in the dark at the kitchen table for a few minutes and then head upstairs; but something told me to turn on the television. I clicked the remote and the Boston Marathon bombing flashed across the screen. Split screen views and a ticker tape narrative instantly described the insanity of this life-ending event. A finish line forever linked to the carnage of so many by so few.
Yet, watching the screen, I was overcome not by the bombing itself but rather, by the brave responses of so many who chose to act in the face of destruction.
I saw police lines fray but never break as officers turned towards and not away from the blast. As runners stopped, swayed or fell, a wave of responders swept to the billowing smoke. I saw two soldiers tearing away wooden barriers clearing a path to allow rescuers to pass. Volunteers, police and firemen ran to the blast that now shrouded their lives. Medics, doctors and nurses labored to save lives while bystanders and responders cradled those who could not move and guided or carried those who could.
Watching these acts of love I felt pride for each responder who freely chose the care of another over their own safety. I thought about the parents of each responder who chose to act. I realized such actions bounded by giving rather than receiving are the hope of every parent.
Heading up to bed I thought about the power of love which was so visible in this unfinished marathon. As I climbed into bed I realized we are more same than different and no matter what age, occupation or station each of us through our power to choose has the ability to reach out and help another.
Newborn Nursery
I love rounding in the newborn nursery.
It was dark as I drove to the hospital. The birds were beginning to sing and traces of shade hidden snow reflected in my headlights. In the nursery a nurse wheeled in a bassinet with a newborn for me to examine. She looked up at me with an engulfing gaze filled with wonder and amazement. I wondered what future sights those eyes would behold and who she would choose to become. Her breathing was soft, measured and smooth. Her arms held close to her chest with her fingers delicately resting on a soft receiving blanket. As I raised her in my hands her lips seemed to move slightly as if trying to speak. I held her softly and felt her warmth as she settled on my shoulder. Time stood still as she joined a parade of other infants I had held over so many years. Infants are our greatest gifts.
After finishing my exam I talked to several new parents. Tired and excited, each was radiant with a mixture of joy and fearful expectations of what was to come. We talked about infants and how parent self-care is the most neglected part of newborn care. We talked about car seats, hand washing, infant carriers, sleep patterns and feeding options but mostly we talked about nurturing, intuition and trust. We discussed how perfect parenting practices are a mirage since every child is born ready to engage life.
Our society is increasingly portrayed as a violent culture devoid of trust and founded on selfish individual desires. We are bombarded with media reports telling us what we as parents must do if our child is to grow up healthy, smart, strong and protected. This fear is based on lack not plenty. By instilling helplessness and anxiety in parents such fear hides endless opportunity that is within each of us. I believe such actions steal life from every child no matter what challenges their physical life might demand. Our love, affection, attention and encouragement provide the foundation for freedom, respect and the power of choice that lives within every child. We are temporary guardians who hold and protect each child waiting for the real fun to begin.
When was the last time you looked into the eyes of a newborn?
Room 101
I had not thought about Room 101 for many years. This room changed me. The children who entered 101 every school day taught me how humility, acceptance and giving are our greatest gifts. This past Easter weekend a teenage patient of mine who spoke with smiles and laugher passed away. The joy of his life and the power of his resurrection made me think about Room 101.
In high school I volunteered and worked in a classroom for children with severe cerebral palsy. I became familiar with neuromuscular disorders and all types of assist devices. Tables, chairs, wheelchairs, standing boards, communication devices and all types of adapted feeding equipment became my stock and trade. What I learned most, however, was the power of touch.
We had many visitors to our room. College students often observed. Most visitors watched silently. A few asked questions and almost everyone smiled seemingly overwhelmed by the physical disabilities they saw. I remember one day someone asked me: “Is it hard to work with these children?” I shook my head and went back to feeding a snack to one of my friends.
As an aide my job was to run the changing room and keep all the children clean and dry. Throughout the day I changed diapers and after lunch and snack would spruce them up. I became a master of diapers and bibs. When I told my friends what I did most would say: “I couldn’t do that.”
Throughout college and medical school I continued to work with special needs children. I supervised playgrounds, worked in a daycare and during my last year of medical school taught summer school in a class of special needs children. The children and parents I worked with during these many years taught me more than any book or teacher.
Children with special needs do come into the world wanting to bring sorrow or pity. They do not want us to look away, talk softly and live in the past. They want us to laugh, dance, love and live life with them. I believe they are our greatest teachers and our greatest treasures.
The Crosswalk
You could see how much he loved her.
One of my greatest teachers taught me parenting is about teaching by example and learning how to follow your child’s lead. I have read countless books about the importance of modeling and being attentive, responsive attuned and sensitive to the needs of your child. Yet, it took an encounter on a crosswalk for me to understand the real meaning of these words.
My wife and I were driving into town this week to go dancing. We were talking about dance leads and how we communicate our various dance moves through touch and hand movements. Lady Gaga was playing on the car stereo while we were stopped at a light. I looked ahead and there they were, father and daughter. A tall muscular man with broad shoulders was holding his daughter’s hand as they crossed the street. They smiled, laughed and looked at one another. In the car our music played and the winter wind blew but I swear I heard them squeal with delight. Their eyes gleamed as they shook their heads back and forth as if saying “no I am right” to one another.
It was not so much the gentle way his large hand carefully encased and caressed hers or how his arm stretched and his knees bent to allow their hands to meet. Rather, it was the way the world compacted into a small container of two beings, he and his daughter. Certainly, he was aware of the stop-light, the cars, the blowing wind and the upcoming curb but all of these were transient and disappeared within his daughters grasp.
He looked at her and she at him. They talked, giggled and danced across the street almost floating until she hopped up on the curb. Just then he turned and gave me a thankful nod for giving them extra time to cross. As he smiled so did I while watching them hand in hand dance away.
As a parent you will have countless opportunities to tell your child what to do, when to do it and why to do it. Yet, no matter how numerous these opportunities are they always come to an end. Each of us must replace this telling with listening and showing just as this father did. In this way lessons learned by your example, your voice, your touch, your patience and your loving support will never end.
Parenthood is a dance. As my wife and I pulled away from that street corner and a new song came on the stereo I realized each of us dance best when we remember how our leads change forever the lives of the children we touch.
Milk and Bread
I am always amazed by the places I find love.
Love is something we read about in books, hear about at church services and talk about with our children and spouses. The true meaning of love, however, is often best seen in small or invisible acts that happen every day. As I have grown older, the grace of age and the love of others have made these acts more visible to me.
Recently, on the way home from work I stopped in a neighborhood supermarket. There was only one aisle open and as I stood in line waiting I started talking to the man in front of me. We smiled and laughed about our short shopping list. I had a loaf of bread and he had a gallon of milk. He said all we needed was mayo and bologna and we were set for dinner. We both laughed. He told me he lived around the corner and was looking forward to getting warm. As we talked he kept blowing into his hands and rubbing them together as he cradled the milk in his arm.
While we talked he never stopped watching a young mother and her child in line ahead of us. The woman was barely twenty and her child looked to be almost four years old. The child was standing next to her mother and was holding on with one hand to a stroller her mom was pushing. She was wrapped with a furry hat, scarves and gloves and had on white princess boots. She stood next to her mom with unflinching silent patience. This mother had the same milk and bread we had and a package of butter, some peanut butter and jelly and a container of laundry detergent. As the cashier rang up her items she searched through her pockets and realized she did not have any money. She turned to the cashier with the grace of a queen and asked if her items could be put to the side while she crossed the street to her home to get the forgotten money. I looked outside at the snow and wondered how she could even push the stroller through the snow let alone make that trip again.
In that instant the man in front of me reached into his jacket, handed money to the cashier and gave the two plastic grocery bags to the mother. She placed the bags in the stroller and thanked him softly. He smiled and said he was happy to help. As she headed out of the store, he paid his bill, wished me well and pulled his hat and gloves on, grabbed his milk and was gone.
I paid my bill and headed out to the parking lot. Just as I reached my car I saw my new friend again. He was walking next to the mom from the store. She was holding the hand of her child and he held several bags of groceries in one hand and a folded stroller in the other. I sat in my car and smiled. Although it was still dark and the snow was blowing I was warm.
We do live in a world filled with love and people who care for one another. You just have to stop and look.
