What He Needed to Hear

It was almost a five hour wait in a long, long hallway. I just buried my face in a book, Joe did the crossword beside me, and the time slowly passed. We were parked near the head of the line up because of the wheelchair so we only saw four or five people close up and we all compared wait times and joked about growing old in the hallway. What would they do with an actual emergency we wondered?

I finally got called in, never in my life have I been more pleased to hear the words "Dave Hingsburger" and I quickly put on my gloves and pushed my way into the examination area. There were several rooms, mostly separated by hanging curtains but I was placed in one of the few actual rooms. I had to see the doctor and then wait for the nurse that would install the IV line to get antibiotics. It was a wait of another hour for the nurse - they wanted a specialist because my veins are deep and hard to find. As my room was near the entrance I saw most of the others as they were called in. all looking, like me, like they'd won the emergency room lotto.

A blond head streaked by followed by and Dad rushing after his son. The son stopped and ran back to his dad, he'd have been 6 maybe 7 years old, he was like a colt let out of the stall and into the yard. He turned and I saw that he had Down Syndrome. I waved, stupid I know being a stranger and all, but he didn't see me. Thankfully, because I did exactly what the Dad didn't want the doctor to do.

They were placed in the curtained room exactly opposite to me. I was sitting in my chair in the door of my room waiting for the specialist nurse. Dad got son settled in the room and you could hear the murmur of their chat as they waited, now for the doctor. When the doctor arrived, a bright and enthusiastic young woman, Dad took her arm and guided her out of the room. He pulled the curtain closed and directed her away from the room. Her face showed shock and maybe a bit of anger.

Thankfully he directed her closer to my room where I sat, yes, listening. Dad then said, "There are some groundrules you need to be aware of before you meet my son. He has Down Syndrome but he's here because he's hurt his arm. He didn't hurt it because he has Down Syndrome, he hurt it because he's an active kid, so let's not even talk about his disability. Also, he's old enough to speak for himself, ask him, not me. I'll help when necessary. His name is Peter, not Pete, not Petey, and definately not 'sweety'. I'm trying to raise a kid who's confident. Treat him that way."

The doctor started to protest that she didn't need a lecture about ... and he stopped her. "Listen, you may be the one professional in a million that would see Pete as a little boy. You might not have needed this talk. If you're that professional, I apologize, but my job is to protect Pete from the rest of them. All I want is respect for him. I want him to learn what respect is like, become addicted to it. So, I'm sorry."

She looked at him and simply said, "You're a good Dad."