My Chicken Soup Story
As parents, we know our children better that anyone else. Yet, sometimes we are hesitant to speak up on their behalf. Let me explain. Several years ago, our special needs daughter had the most serious surgery of her life. The procedure was a meticulous spinal chord operation and was found to be very beneficial to cerebral palsied children. We had heard about the procedure from other parents and the resulting “miracle” that occurred in their child’s life. We had to do something to prevent our daughter’s disease from destroying her mobility therefore, we investigated this new option. We researched the procedure for two years. Then, we selected a well-known neurosurgeon and arranged the surgery date. The surgery was completed within six hours. When our daughter returned to her hospital room, she was unusually nauseated. She was also connected to a heart monitor, IV, NG tube, and catheter. It was normal for our daughter to get sick after a surgery, but within an hour or two the nausea would always subside. We were all concerned. As a result, every hour the nurses monitored our daughter’s temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and incision. They tried different medicines in her IV and at both ends. They used antibiotics and sleeping pills. They ran her through x-rays, CAT scans, and MRI’s. Yet, she continued to vomit. I waited and watched, while the doctors made their rounds. Two weeks passed and they were still unable to understand or locate the cause for her nausea. But I knew what it was. I knew my daughter inside and out. And each time that I attempted to tell the doctors, they didn’t have time to listen to me because they were worried about her. Finally, the head neurosurgeon decided to bring all of the specialists together. Then they would decide if they should “open her up”, again. Seventeen of the top neuro specialists gathered around my daughter’s bed to discuss their ideas. The lead doctor kept watching me as they talked. I listened intently to their comments. When the time came for the lead doctor to express his opinion, he stopped and looked at me. He asked, “Well, mom what do you think it is? Do you have any ideas?” I smiled and stepped forward into their circle. I spoke with assertiveness. “I know what it is”, I said. The entire group turned their faces towards me. Without hesitation, I continued. “It’s her nerves, that’s what’s making her throw up. You see, even though she is 13 years old, she has the mind of a six year old. She’s had 15 previous surgeries and she is scared to death. “Each time a person in white walks into this room, she throws up. She’s fine when you’re not here.” “If you can trust me . . . detach her from this equipment, and let me take her home. She’ll eat, she’ll sleep, and she’ll heal.” The doctor smiled, “You heard mom, let’s get her out of here.” I have to admit that I was a little nervous, but I knew most everything about my daughter and had learned quite a bit of nursing. We started down the hallway and before we hit the elevator, my daughter fell asleep. She slept the entire way home, nearly four hours. When we arrived home, I asked my daughter what she wanted to eat. She had not eaten in two weeks. She responded, “Chicken soup, I want chicken noodle soup.” She ate three cans of her favorite soup that night and slept for 12 hours straight. Then she woke up and asked for more soup. Thirty years ago, my grandpa said that chicken soup had mysterious healing powers. You know, he was right.

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