March 23rd, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories
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My mother had a good deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.
–Mark Twain
Parenting is a difficult job – and one that few would sign up for given full advanced disclosure. I suppose my parents had their share of woes – my near-death experience as an infant, my being mauled by a vicious dog as a toddler, my getting lost in the woods (collecting poisonous toad stools) at age 4, my facial surgery after a bicycle accident, my head injury from a fall out of the tree house, my toboggan versus barbed wire fence encounter, my front teeth versus metal bar incident, my rib fractures and nearly ruptured spleen from another fall from a bunk bed, and my ski accident requiring knee reconstruction surgery… I guess you could call me accident prone.
Looking back it makes sense why my parents encouraged me not to play contact sports, but pursue academics. I took to jogging and tennis instead (yes, I managed to sprain my ankle and catch a racket to the eye nonetheless), and physical training in the gym. But my redirection towards reading and homework was probably a good thing – as it helped me to develop intellectual discipline, and at the very least kept me out of the ER.
So what is the moral of this story? I guess if you have a kid who’s physically challenged – or at least seems to be a magnet for high velocity metal objects, do not lose heart. With a little direction, he or she can grow up to become a doctor who helps other kids who injure themselves repeatedly in creative and unexpected ways.
Were you an accident prone kid, or do you have an accident prone kid? I’d like to hear some of your war stories!
This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
March 11th, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories
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I’m afraid you’re going to need a box of tissues for this next post. My good friend Carolyn (she is the Cancer Center Manager at Revolution Health – and has a great blog) sent me a link to a story she wrote about a school program developed to raise awareness of the dangers of drunk driving. It’s called: “Fatal Choices – Shattered Dreams.”
Basically, the entire school goes through a detailed reenactment of a fatal car crash where several classmates are killed. Part of the program requires that all the kids (and their parents) imagine the goodbye letters they’d write if they knew they would be killed in a drunk driving crash. Carolyn and her daughter wrote these letters to one another, as they imagined this horrific scenario:
Dear Mom & Dad. I really don’t know what you are supposed to say in a good bye letter. I couldn’t even imagine waking up one morning and not coming back to see you later that same day. Today, that unimaginable thing became a reality. Dad – if I could go back to this morning knowing what the day would bring I wish more than anything that I just would have said I love you instead of griping about stupid things. I truly do love you and hope and wish that after my death, you can move on, heal and live an amazing life full of happiness. Mom – my only regret with you is that I did not even get to see or speak to you this morning. I would give a lot just to be able to see you this morning. You are the one person that I would not mind being completely like when I grow up, if I would have grown up. You are more than just my mom, you are the one I can talk to and count on. I love you so much! Both of you mean the world to me and I would give anything just to be able to say good bye. I love you with all my heart and I hope that after my death, everything will be OK. I wish you both the best life you could possibly have and please live it the way you would with me there – with happiness, excitement and adventure. Thank you for everything you have given me. You are the absolute best parents I could have asked for. I love you forever, wherever. Erica
Here’s what Erica’s mom, Carolyn, wrote:
We thought we had a lifetime to talk to you, call you on the telephone or e-mail you, but this will be the final time we will write:
Dear Erica, This is not the proper order of things – parents bury parents and grandparents. We are not supposed to bury our children, but yet, here we are saying good-bye for the last time. We hope you left this world knowing that we loved you more than life itself. If either of us could trade places with you, we would do so without hesitation. Our lives will never be the same. They say time heals all wounds, but not this one. We have holes in our hearts since you are gone, and we will be this way until the end of our days. We will never see you graduate from high school. We can imagine the smile on your face as you are with your friends when you leave high school for the last time as a graduate. We will miss seeing you swim in college, something we know you were looking forward to. We’ll never see you graduate from college – beginning what for most is the start of a lifetime of rich and fulfilling experiences. We will not see the love you show for others as you proceed with your career as a neo-natal nurse. How many babies will never know your soft and caring touch? We will never see you walk down the aisle with the love of your life. We will never hold your children. But the most tragic thing of all Erica, we will never hold you again – something we cannot bear, but must now deal with. Puffy, Puppy and Kissy are with you in your final resting place. We hope that whatever journey you take from here on – that they bring you comfort throughout eternity. Remember us as two people who loved you so much that even in death, we want you to be comfortable and at peace. Good-bye for the last time, Erica. This is not the proper order of things, but we will love you forever.
This sort of program and reflection may truly save lives… Do what you can to support this initiative.
This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
March 11th, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories
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Alright, I confess – my mother is probably the number one fan of this blog. Ever since I told her I’d be writing one, she has been reading it faithfully. I asked her not to post comments (only because it’s a tad embarrassing to have your parents interacting with you in front of an audience, and frankly, I haven’t noticed a single other blogger doing this!) but alas, she couldn’t resist on that last one. And that’s ok, because I know you readers don’t mind.
My mom does have rare occasions of impulse control failure. One of the more memorable ones was during “Parents Day” at my medical school. The Alumni Association had planned a reception for the parents of the incoming class of 2000 at Columbia U. College of Physicians & Surgeons. There was a full agenda, and my mom quickly noticed that the surgeon who’d saved my life was slotted to speak. The auditorium was full of hundreds of proud parents and their kids, all excited about embarking on a noble career in medicine.
Well, just as my former surgeon was introduced and was walking to the podium my mother jumped up and ran in front of him and asked if she could please have the mike. The MC was visibly nervous (not as much as I was), but after quickly sizing my mom up, she decided that it would be ok to let her have the podium briefly.
In one of the most moving speeches in recent memory, my mother proceeded to explain the story of how Dr. Schullinger had promised not to give up on me (a baby with little chance of survival) and how he had kept his promise to this day. She described the miraculous abdominal surgery (where he had to remove most of my colon), and how he had faithfully responded to every Christmas card she sent him, reporting on my progress for 26 consecutive years. She thanked him for what he did, and pledged that her daughter would devote her life to “doing likewise.”
Well, that brought down the house. Everyone cheered for Dr. Schullinger, who turned beet red (he’s a very shy and humble person) and stumbled through the beginning of his speech. It was a great moment in medicine.
Of course, I was teased mercilessly for the rest of the year – my classmates called me Valerie “semi-colon” Jones, and they would ask if my mother was going to help me with my homework… But kids will be kids.
What I learned from my mom that day is that this old Hebrew proverb is important to follow:
“Never withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thy hand to do it.”
So if someone has done something good for you, or you notice an act of kindness – why not shout it from the hill tops? May goodness rise above the low level grumbling that we live in day to day.
Let’s revel in the sunny parts of life.
This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
March 7th, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories
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Girl scout cookie season is upon us, and recently our office was swarming with youngsters taking cookie orders. I wasn’t sure which girl I should order from (one can’t really order from each of them and expect to maintain any semblance of a normal BMI) and as I was considering how to choose, one energetic little girl simply walked right up to me and asked if I’d like some cookies.
She was slim and blonde, with bright eyes and an honest face. I knew the “sales pitch” didn’t come naturally to her, and I tried to make it easier by joking a bit. She was shy, but on a mission. I asked her which type of cookie she liked best, and if her daddy ate too many of them. She was innocently pleased with the interaction and disappeared down a hallway near some cubicles.
Many weeks later a large delivery of girl scout cookies arrived. There was a mass distribution strategy in place with moms and girls cutting open cardboard boxes of cookies and delivering them to buyers. I asked if my cookies were on the list. They told me that they didn’t sell me the cookies, so I’d need to wait for the specific little girl who sold them to me to stop by.
About a week later, when I had assumed that my little girl scout had forgotten about my order (and the rest of our staff had well and truly gorged themselves on thin mints), her dad came into my office with a pretty bag tied with a ribbon and a hand written card from his daughter. He told me she asked him to deliver it personally, because she wanted her service to be different than the other girls. Her dad joked that he was trying to train her about “differentiators” but I was quite touched by the effort she had made to make me feel like a special customer.
Later that afternoon I sat down to write a thank-you card to the girl. I wanted her to know that her efforts made a difference, and that I noticed her hard work in making my cookie purchase a personalized experience (not just part of a bulk delivery service). I put some stickers on the card, I used colorful paper, and a big red envelope.
A few days later I asked her dad if she liked the card. This is what he wrote to me:
“She loved it. She saw it at breakfast and came screaming upstairs to show it to everybody. Thanks!”
That really made my day. I hope in some way that I’ve encouraged this little girl to continue to reach for excellence, to stand out in the crowd, and to know that her work is appreciated. It is this sort of attitude toward life that will help her grow up to be… a revolutionary.
This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
February 22nd, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in News
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Recent research suggested that circumcision may reduce the rate of HIV transmission by 50% (foreskin cells are particularly vulnerable to infection with the virus). In response to this news, adult men in Uganda and Kenya have been undergoing the procedure in the hope of reducing their risk of HIV infection.
Some young boys in Kenya were actually expelled from school for not being circumcised. Their parents were asked to bring them back to school once the deed was done.
HIV rates have decreased in Uganda from 15% to 5% after aggressive public health initiatives raised awareness of the importance of safe sexual practices. This is an incredibly positive achievement.
One would hope, however, that circumcision in infancy would become the preferred target age for future procedures.
This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
