Words to live by....

     We were very fortunate for our children to have had the opportunity to be pediatric patients of Dr. William Grattan, and his associate for a time, Dr. Martin Symansky.  Both doctors went way beyond the basics of care on several different occasions.  At one such time, Dr. Symansky gave me the best advice a doctor had ever offered, and ironically (or not), the advice was directed at dealing with doctors.
     David was 5 years old when all the medical interventions for dealing with his repeated and severe strep infections were exhausted.  The usual course of prescribed antibiotics had failed to stop recurrent infections, even after changes in medication and extended periods of time;  6 months of treatment had not stopped him from getting strep again.  The doctors recommended that he undergo a tonsillectomy, and they arranged a consult with the surgeon, Dr. G., who concurred and set a date for the surgery, scheduled at Childs' Hospital in Albany.
    David was old enough to be aware of the seriousness of being hospitalized, and did not want to be alone there.  Dr. G. was a young and capable surgeon and, since he was recommended by Dr. Symansky, I had confidence that we were on the right path.  But Dr. G. said he did not think it necessary that I stay in the hospital, as David had wanted, saying he was old enough not to need that.  When I relayed that to Dr. Symansky, this is what he told me:    "Why should you care what Dr. G. thinks?   He's a good surgeon, and that's why he'll be doing his job, but what he thinks about that shouldn't matter to you.  If you want to stay with your child, then do it.  It's your decision to make."
     The surgery took place, I did stay, and the strep issue was resolved.
          ( As a sidebar, the only time I left was when Dave and Dorothy and Gus came down and we went out to dinner, right near the hospital.  The mother of the other child in the room, a baby, stayed while I was out and told me later that David had crawled under a chair and stayed there in silence the whole time I was gone.  Years later, his only memory was that he had been left alone; he had no store of knowledge  that I had slept for 3 nights in  a reclining chair, with no blankets.)