A Christmas Story

We were planning her 100th birthday party and Grammy Sara was looking forward to seeing the baby again. Christmas Eve was when her birthday was celebrated, even though she never had a birth certificate.

The Christmas Eve of 1996 was when I was told our baby son Noah's white blood count was so high that he would need a complete blood transfusion...as soon as possible.

"Your son has leukemia, would you like an ambulance, or should one of our nurses drive you?"

My pediatrician's nurse accompanied Noah and I to Westchester Medical Center. Before the age of cellphones, people left messages. My husband, Andy, got the message to meet us at the hospital. He had left work early to do some last minute shopping. Andy had no idea what he would be facing when he met Noah and I in the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) at the medical center.

The blood transfusion seemed to last for hours. Andy had left long ago to pick up our four-year old daughter from a friend. At 3:00am, I finally went home and Santa still had not come. I got back to the hospital at 8:00am, just as they were wheeling Noah out of PICU to an operating room for the first of many spinal taps.

Logic would ask, "Where is the best place for treatment?" A logical parent would ask, "Where's the best treatment close to home?" "Could we get the best care here?" Our logical doctor, Dr. Jayabose, assured us that we could. He calmed our fears and soothed our psyche. We felt that our stress would hinder Noah's healing. So, we stayed close to home. To entrust our son's life to one man's opinion, required more than one man's opinion. We need referrals. Respected pediatricians, the Internet, an instinct-all said the same thing. Stay with Dr. J.

I trust in this team of doctors. I trust in my own faith. And I trust that my son will live be a very compassionate, loving, and fascinating old man.

Noah is now five years old, off treatment, and never fails to remind us how old we are!

Linda Brenner