Salaam

My first shift in the pediatric emergency department. I suppose I did look the part, dressed casually in gray cords and running shoes, the standard green scrubs top and my trusty stethoscope around my neck sporting a rubber duckie key chain as the ultimate crying-kid distractor. Clipboard in hand I was wading through the crowded waiting room trying to find some vomiting child I was supposed to see. The place was swarming and loud, parents and kids covering every nook and cranny, all looking at me somewhat expectantly as if I was some kind of lifeline.

Then, a gentle hand on my arm and the Arabic greeting, "Salaam aleikum". The dull roar faded a bit and I turned to face a woman, completely veiled in the black niqab with only her smiling eyes showing, looking at me with confident familiarity. Instinctively I replied back, "aleikum salaam" with a grin and desperately searched my memory for those eyes. With a rush it came back as I caught sight of her husband sitting across the room in his prayer cap and full jet black beard. Six months ago those same eyes had held my gaze with terror and her trembling hand had grasped my arm as she lay in the operating room having a needle stuck into the jugular vein in her neck in preparation for her high risk cesarean section. Her heart was double the normal size, and was failing as it tried to cope with all the changes of pregnancy. We didn't speak the same language, but everyday, I sat and spoke with her and her husband, a deeply compassionate, sensitive, and caring man. The baby had been delivered prematurely and was born at 5 lbs, now she was a thumping 6 month old... granted she did have a bit of a cough, but had her mothers big dark eyes that peered at me solemnly and intently.

Its amazing how powerful one look can be. In a moment, salaam, peace, is exactly what I felt. The next moment, the roar rose again, the vomiting child had heard their name and I ushered this new family into a room to be seen. Strange. Some patients impact me so powerfully that I can remember the exact emotions that coursed through me, the thoughts I had as I anticipated seeing them each day, and the way they stuck in my heart. But it never crosses my mind that they will remember me, that I was someone in green scrubs who looked different to them. It gave me shivers down my spine and warmth in my belly.

Other lovely feelings I'm having are related to ridiculously cute kids (granted, some slightly neurotic parents... why can't they just vaccinate their kids?!?) as well as my work week now being around 30 hours instead of 80. Last night I got to put a bright pink cast on a giggling two year old's leg, saw my first ever case of mumps (uh... yeah, there is in fact a vaccine for that FYI), and got to make funny faces at all but one of my patients (the exception was a 15 year old with a hole in his finger, I just didn't think he'd be that into it).

After explaining to my sister how I only have 12 shifts in four weeks and that I get to play with cute kids all day, she asked quite a profound question. "Well, why wouldn't everybody want to be a children's emergency doctor?" Good question. It stopped me in my tracts. The answer didn't take me too long. Well, clearly, its because you don't get to delivery babies and be at birthday parties everyday, that's why.