By: Deborah Nwabor
Imagine an African American, brown-eyed, eleven-year-old female who is about to endure knee surgery for the first time ever. She has not eaten all day in preparation for her afternoon surgery- she is starving. The hunger does not help matters as she walks through the large glass doors of Sick Kids Children’s Hospital, deficient in all feelings of safety, amusement, or optimism. Her nervousness and anxiety have no distraction - she is both hungry and terrified.
With her mother by her side, she moves through this maze of a hospital looking for the Orthopedics wing of the hospital so that she can sign in and get prepped for her operation. The little girl’s anxiety and fear inflates. When they finally arrive in the correct area, her mother signs all the required forms and they sit in the waiting room, waiting to be called upon.
After about half an hour of waiting she is called upon by a nurse to be prepped for her surgery. She is given an ID wristband, a hospital gown to change into, and she is guided by the doctors to complete all the other necessary pre-op procedural tasks. At this point, the little girl is very weary, and her feelings of hunger and worry are still very present.
She meets a Caucasian, brown haired pediatric anesthesiologist with a smile that could brighten up any room. The anesthesiologist mentioned is made aware of this fact and permits her to drink a cool and fizzy cup of ginger ale- this encounter was the turning point of that little girl’s day.
Shortly afterwards, she is taken into the operation room to be given anesthesia. Many wonderful and talented pediatric medical professionals are there but one face is very distinguishable to the girl. It is the pediatric anesthesiologist with the unforgettably bright smile.
She speaks to the little girl and reassures her that she is going to be perfectly fine, promising her all the popsicles she wants after her operation. The woman is extremely joyous and kind to the point where it is almost contagious, and the little girl feels better in her presence. She helps the child onto the surgical bed and makes her as comfortable as possible while asking her about her school and family life continuing to reassure her that everything will be fine. The little girl started to think, “wow, this anesthesiology thing is awesome, this woman gets to be part of cool surgeries and put smiles on little kids’ faces every day!”. She becomes interested in her profession and goes on to ask the woman all sorts of questions about it. Once it was time to insert the IV line, involving a needle, the woman did it with ease and the little girl barely noticed because she was extremely engrossed in conversation about anesthesiology. The girl no longer senses her own hunger, tiredness or worry- all she feels is excitement and curiosity. Finally, the woman asks her what flavor she wants her anesthesia to be and her little brain could not fathom such brilliance she did not shut up about flavored anesthesia for a whole month after that. After freaking out over it, she ultimately picks the cotton candy flavor. Then, in what felt like ten seconds to her, she fell asleep and woke up; as predicted, there were no complications, and she was perfectly fine.
This tale is a recount of my past experience five years ago, as a little girl about to have knee surgery. It was this experience that motivates me every day to take steps into the career path of a pediatric anesthesiologist- to make another kid feel the same way that woman made me feel and impact another person’s life through science and humanitarianism. Over the years I have had the opportunity to further discover what fulfills me and whether medicine would be right for me. I have concluded that I really do enjoy working with kids, expanding my knowledge in health sciences and making people, especially children smile! So, emulating the career path of the pediatric anesthesiologist that I met five years ago feels like a no-brainer. I never would have guessed that a small cup of ginger ale would be significant to such an important memory.
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