Walked onto the PEDS floor and the first person I encounter is a mom who says that she’s afraid of clowns . . . before I can even check in at the nurses’ station or do my usual quick visual survey of rooms and visitation restrictions posted. She’s doing this hands up to the face thing, too. Oh boy.
I backed away and assured her that was OK, “I’m afraid of clowns, too.” That got a faint little smile out of her.
She mumbled something about “Ever since my mom and I saw It.” Oh, that’s not a real clown. That’s a fictitious horror character. I’m a real clown. I smiled at her and moved on.
A couple of rooms down, and a grandma is keeping her grandson, about 10, company. After I taught him a card trick, she asked if I was like Patch Adams. I hope I am, but Patch Adams is a real doctor. Oh, you’re not? (Funny how often I get that.) No, I’m just a pretending physician, but I’m sure inspired by Patch’s work. I can only hope to be like Patch.
Later, at the end of rounds in PEDS, I peeked my head in the last room, and there was the ‘afraid of clowns’ woman with her baby son – the patient – and her husband. No recoil at all, just a little smile. I assured her she was safe because I was way over here outside the door. She invited me in, but because there were contact restrictions for her son, I told her I needed to stay here at the door. That was OK with her; I think she may have been relieved. Made her a fresh squeezed paper napkin rose (yellow, her favorite and her request) and asked her husband to come over and get it and present it to her. Wished her a great day, she did the same. Smiles all the way around, clown panic in check.
After checking out for the day, outside the entrance to Emergency on the way out to the parking garage, I ran into a family group of 4 kids and dad coming to visit mom. An impromptu sidewalk circus broke out right there. Dr. Fowlbreath did her amazing, death-defying aerial act (poultry in motion, ha ha, fowl old joke). Every pause in the action was met with a point and a “what’s that?” to everything sticking out of my medicine bag. Ten frenzied minutes later, and it was time to send them on their way to see mom, a flower in the hand of each for her.
Dad stage whispered, “Thank you!”
I backed away and assured her that was OK, “I’m afraid of clowns, too.” That got a faint little smile out of her.
She mumbled something about “Ever since my mom and I saw It.” Oh, that’s not a real clown. That’s a fictitious horror character. I’m a real clown. I smiled at her and moved on.
A couple of rooms down, and a grandma is keeping her grandson, about 10, company. After I taught him a card trick, she asked if I was like Patch Adams. I hope I am, but Patch Adams is a real doctor. Oh, you’re not? (Funny how often I get that.) No, I’m just a pretending physician, but I’m sure inspired by Patch’s work. I can only hope to be like Patch.
Later, at the end of rounds in PEDS, I peeked my head in the last room, and there was the ‘afraid of clowns’ woman with her baby son – the patient – and her husband. No recoil at all, just a little smile. I assured her she was safe because I was way over here outside the door. She invited me in, but because there were contact restrictions for her son, I told her I needed to stay here at the door. That was OK with her; I think she may have been relieved. Made her a fresh squeezed paper napkin rose (yellow, her favorite and her request) and asked her husband to come over and get it and present it to her. Wished her a great day, she did the same. Smiles all the way around, clown panic in check.
After checking out for the day, outside the entrance to Emergency on the way out to the parking garage, I ran into a family group of 4 kids and dad coming to visit mom. An impromptu sidewalk circus broke out right there. Dr. Fowlbreath did her amazing, death-defying aerial act (poultry in motion, ha ha, fowl old joke). Every pause in the action was met with a point and a “what’s that?” to everything sticking out of my medicine bag. Ten frenzied minutes later, and it was time to send them on their way to see mom, a flower in the hand of each for her.
Dad stage whispered, “Thank you!”
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