Life Goes On

On Wednesday, I was called by a patient's mummy whose son had just passed away. This little boy was a medical conundrum, and those of us who were involved in his care did take a little pride in solving the puzzle of his congenital illness. Nonetheless, we were unable to save his life, a short period of 2 1/2 years. He did outlive his requisite 2 years - children with his rare condition rarely live beyond 2 years of age, but his days were punctuated by repeated hospital admissions, frequent venous cannulation, blood draws and excruciating abdominal discomfort and infections. It is times like these that I look at my profession with resignation. This is the reason that so many doctors don't want to be paediatricians. It is such a rough ride for parents whose kids have chronic illnesses - it must be like losing a part of yourself in the process. When you see a family whose greatest joy is that the child has spent a week away from the hospital, you realise that your framework for normal life is a complete parody. Yet this is the very reason that I would never regret being inadvertantly shunted into child neurology as a specialty. Yes, there is my "veggie garden" as some of my crueler compatriots will put it, where there are children who will never be able to get out of bed, or maintain any meaningful eye contact, thought or speech. But I draw great strength from the parents of my patients. Their strength and determination, and ability not just to grit their teeth and get on with life, but to actually put a smile on it, gives me the impetus to go one step further for them. I also get frequent "reality checks" when I see my patients. The little things that bug me in life, like my kids' grumbling, or multitudinous demands on me are put in their place as the truly little things of life.