Open letter to Pediatric Specialists

This week we took my daughter Maddie to a new specialists. This was her 22nd Specialist. Twenty-two times we have sat in a specialist waiting room and have answered countless questions. 22 times. This number doesn’t even include dental/oral specialists, physical therapists, and all the other extra doctors/practitioners we have seen over the years.

We left frustrated.

We left a little more resigned.

We left a little more heartbroken.

So here are my thoughts, not that any specialist will ever see them.. but it makes me feel better to get them on paper. I realize that there are many specialists out there doing a fantastic job and making a huge difference in the lives of children (Dr Wasserman is our hero!) But for every incredible doctor we have seen, we have a handful that have left scars.

Those scars hurt.

And when your whole life is about finding help for your child, having a specialist add to the wound is wrong. I truly don’t believe they realize what they are doing… so here are my wishes and recommendations:

  1. My child has a name.
    Please make an effort to talk TO my child, not at my child. Even better, call her by name! The best way to make a connection is to find a few moments to get to know the patient. I realize that you don’t need a connection, but WE DO!
  2. Read the medical chart before entering the room.
    If we are seeing you, the likelihood is that there is a reason! Please don’t ask us simple questions about diagnosis and referrals, we need to see that you have read the chart and have made an effort. And really, when I have to explain what the primary diagnosis means or how to spell it, how can you expect me to trust anything else that you have to say?
  3. Honor the work that we have made to get here.
    You may not agree with what other doctors have done or said in the past. In fact, you may not see any reason for us being in your office, but please honor the work it has taken to be sitting in your exam room.
  4. Listen
    When you ask a question, listen to the answer. Don’t assume that you already have the answer. We can tell and the best way to get a child to stop answering your questions is to show her that you don’t really care what she has to say.
  5. Don’t discount our experiences
    My child has been sick for 17 years. I have sat in countless doctors offices and have experienced more than you could ever imagine. My daughter is in the 1% club for side effects, allergies, and illnesses. I’ve lived through the fine print! Please, don’t discount our experiences. Just because we don’t describe it exactly how you read it in the textbook doesn’t make it any less valid.
  6. My child is more than a test result and quality of life matters
    I realize that your care is driven by and dependent upon test results, but those things don’t mean much to me. I care about my child and the fact that she is hurting. When tests results mean another dead-end, can you please offer more than “well, at least we have another no..”
  7. Do a thorough examination
    My daughter told you that she had seen 21 other specialists for a reason… She didn’t like your vibe. You then proved it by doing a minimal examination. bummer. You proved you didn’t care right then.
  8. Acknowledge that you don’t have the answers
    After 17 years of consultations and testing, I don’t expect you to have the answers. I pray daily that you do, but I don’t expect you to do so. So instead of brushing off symptoms and clinical observations, acknowledge that you don’t know what to do! We will honor that and invite you to join the journey.
  9. Imagine life in our shoes.
    I’m guessing that living life as a speciality doctor gives you the understanding that you are the smartest person in the room most days. Well, being the smartest person in the room may or may not be the case, but you could at least be empathic! I don’t imagine you have ever considered what it would mean to you and your mindset if you had to go through life knowing that no matter what you did, where you looked, or who you talked to, you couldn’t make things better/heal/fix your child!
  10. Please leave me with hope
    At the end of a consultation leave us with hope. Please. Instead, after sitting through an almost 2 hour visit you said there was no reason for a follow up unless the blood work came back “icky.” Really? How hard would it have been to leave us with the “I’ll be in touch” or something tinged with hope?! But to make a decision that we aren’t worth your time before even seeing test results? really? nice.

So what do we do? We continue to fight. We continue to research on our own. We continue… It seemed awfully easy for you to look at us and say that the current medical research doesn’t have a unifying diagnosis for my daughter. But it’s not easy for us.

and so we will continue the fight, we will continue to search, we will continue to hope.

Cause Maddie matters.

The quest continues with Specialist #22

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Today we are meeting specialist #22.

Yes, today will be the 22nd time we have sat down with doctors who have chosen to specialize in a branch of medicine and have hoped for answers for Maddie.

I’m hopeful. I have to be.

But I’m not “getting my hopes up.”

Over the last 17 years we have learned resignation. Dang.

But we have never given up. We have never quit. We have never stopped searching for answers.

So today, we go meet another doctor. We tell Maddie’s story again.

Maybe, oh please, maybe today we will meet a doctor willing to captain Maddie’s uncertain and uncharted medical ship.

We have to hope.

UIL OAP JUDGING

As the 2017-2018 school year approaches and it’s time to hire UIL One-Act Play judges, it’s time for me to post my judging philosophy.  Over the last few years as a clinician and judge I have worked with shows from Junior High to 5A. I love and respect all levels.

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It’s judge hiring season for UIL One-Act Play. I remember as a director how stressful this time was. The wonder and the fear… so much responsibility to give just one person! And what if the judge hated our play?!! It truly was a nerve-wrecking process.

Now I sit at the other side of the table at the Director’s Meetings and I see the same stress and fear. I love that most of the district’s have gone to panel judging so that there are three sets of eyes and ears (and perspectives) as this is essentially a playoff game with no preseason or district competition to see where you rank among other schools!

For directors and contest managers still looking for judges and looking at my profile, here are my take-aways.

I love UIL OAP… all of it. The camaraderie, the competition, the nerves and the joy.

I respect you and the work that you have put in to get to this point. I competed in non-advancing OAP shows as a student. We worked just as hard as the advancing shows.

Resources are limited. I know that some schools have state of the art equipment and stages and some of you don’t even have a single 4×8 platform. As a director, I worked at 2A, 3A and 4A schools. I have lived in both worlds.

I value your students. As a judge, I give honest critiques, but my goal is that every student walks away feeling empowered by the UIL OAP experience. I don’t believe in belittling students, nor do I believe that it anything is gained by making a student feel as if he or she was solely responsible for the failure or the success of a production.

I appreciate the opportunity and I don’t take it lightly. When I sign my judging ballot, please know that I take the responsibility seriously… I have read your play prior to competition, I have watched the production you have placed on the stage, I have taken detailed notes, and I have given constructive feedback. It is only after the awards and critiques are over that I take a deep breath of relief. Getting it right is that important.

Thanks for taking the time to consider me for a judging assignment.

Emily McLemore

Adjunct Drama Instructor: Ranger College
Visual Art Teacher: Stephenville High School

MFA, Theatre: Florida Atlantic University
BA, Theatre: Hardin-Simmons Universit