Lesson Learned from Trick or Treaters

It’s Halloween and I just received a transfer from the PICU, a little boy just under two, wearing a Spiderman costume. He came despite needing 5 different IV medications at that time (all needing to be on time because he had a medication every hour, some not compatible with others). He wanted so much to ‘trick or treat’ on our unit with the other kids at noon. The hustle and bustle of moving him floor to floor, all the while transporting him with oxygen tubes and a tank, spo2 and cardiac monitors and leads, and multiple IV tubing and pumps exhausted him. By the time he made it to his room at 12:15 he just wanted to sleep. His parents wanted him to trick or treat because they knew very well, despite being the fiercest of fighters I ever knew, that this might be his last chance. And it was.

Unfortunately for me, I was still learning to appreciate each moment and enjoying it instead of being caught up on what’s next. It was extremely important for me to stay on task with the IV meds because the child’s life did depend on it, but I wish I could have done something to help him enjoy his last Halloween better. As a new-ish nurse, I was overwhelmed with the hour long report, the bucket of wound care supplies, the new oxygen device I was learning to use, the tangles of IV tubing to sort through, and a complicated medication schedule 7 pages long I had to get back on schedule. Not to mention the other patient I was taking care of and his medications, etc. There is no use in going back and wishing I did differently, because I did do my best for my skills at the time, but I have learned from it. The memory or the boy in the Spiderman costume will always remind me to take the time to enjoy the now.

This is the lesson, among others, I learned also from a tiny five year old girl, bald as can be, in a fairy costume that same day. She was able to trick or treat, but if I were her, I would have been in bed. She rode around on her little tricycle, fairy wings trailing behind her as she went from nurse station to nurse station, croaking “Trick or Treat!” Barley croaking. This poor little girl was undergoing radiation to her neck and chemotherapy. She had red angry and bleeding burns like a collar around her neck, and her throat was full of mucositis. Imagine one mouth sore, open and erupted all down your throat. Most kids (and adults) can’t even swallow their own spit. But there she was, croaking ‘trick or treat’ and smiley widely and excitedly with each new conquest of candy. Her situation was less than ideal. If she were older she might have thought, ‘why me?” Or, ‘Why can’t I be trick or treating like other kids?’ Or obsessing over how life would be when she was through with this awful trial. Instead she enjoyed what she could, when she could. I will never forget the beauty and strength in that little girl, and will forever be amazed that it belonged to such a tiny person with a bald head.