Inviting our kids to their doctors’ appointments
An interesting thing happened at my son’s last hospital appointment. It’s important to know that my eight-year-old isn’t like all eight-year olds; he’s been in and out of hospital since he was born and by speaking with him, you would know quickly that its an environment that he feels comfortable in.
But this last appointment was interesting because we met someone new, and I was reminded about the importance of keeping the focus of patient-centered care on the patient—even when they are a child.
We were waiting in the room and in walked a resident; she was friendly and introduced herself to me when she walked in, explaining that my child’s regular specialist would be in to see him after she had spoken with us and had a chance to examine him.
Now, my child was sitting and staring at the wall in the room because there is artwork in every room that kind of looks like a large Where’s Waldo book. We will often play a version of I spy while we wait.
Without addressing my child, the resident then went on to ask me personal health-related questions about my child. “How has he been doing?” she asked sweetly, “Has he been complaining of pain? …Where is his pain? …Has he been eating/drinking well? How have his bowel movements been?”
All questions I could answer, but frankly wouldn’t be able to answer as well as he would because I’m not inside his body. It would have been so easy as his parent to continue to ignore the fact that he was in the room and just let him sit there and just let the grownups talk because it’s become a habit to sit in his appointments and help him answer questions. I’ve been doing it since he was a baby, and at one point he was so little he couldn’t communicate his pain the same way we would’ve expected an adult to. But I know that he has been old enough for a while now to communicate for himself and that I had taught him to be his own advocate—to speak how he feels—and, as his parent and as his support in this moment, my job was to acknowledge him, encourage his patient voice, and bring him into the conversation.
So instead of answering any of the doctors’ questions, I looked at my son and said, “Daniel – how have you been doing? Do you have any pain? Have you been eating and drinking well?” and I encouraged him to stand up for his needs and share in his own way.
Later, my son’s specialist came into the room and—as she always does—she immediately addressed her patient. They chatted and shared updates and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself because it just happened, in this appointment, that my son shared a random fact with her about her specialty. “Did you know that the wrist has seven bones?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure it has eight,” she responded. And, in my son’s true fashion, he expressed that, “no, I’m pretty certain it’s seven and that you’re wrong.” (Because of course the woman who has studied bones and joints for most of her adult life would most definitely be the incorrect one in this scenario) His doctor then looked at the resident doctor and together they attempted to name them…but could only remember seven! With a smug look on his face, Daniel responded with a “that sounds like seven, to me!” The resident then sourced it and confirmed that there was, in fact, eight, but I am certain that when she had originally walked into that appointment, she hadn’t expected to be quizzed on bone anatomy by her new eight-year-old patient, and for a minute, the distracted eight-year-old that hadn’t even been addressed had almost bested his doctors. He then proceeded to talk about his desire to be a research immunologist and talked about how macrophages (cells in our body) have their own language and can communicate in their own version of a type of Morse code.
Now, I know that my child’s interests and his knowledge are not common and are probably a direct result of his time in hospital, but I want to challenge all new doctors out there who are meeting pediatric patients—or, frankly, any patient who is attending an appointment with a support or an advocate (whether that be a child with their parent, or an elderly parent with a child, or a patient with a translator) to ensure that you ALWAYS address the patient.
Before you even walk in the room, if you’ve read their chart and you see a long medical history, assume they know very well how to communicate with you.
Make eye contact with them
Directly ask them the questions
Because, honestly, if you want to have the truest account of how someone is feeling inside a body, it’s so important to ask the soul inside—no matter their age.
And patient support individuals, like myself—parents, adult children, friends, translators—I want to challenge you too. If you see your loved one or friend in their appointment not being addressed in their appointment, help them! As their advocate, it’s so tempting to take control of the situation, to desire to want to help so much that you forget to invite them to their own appointment. It’s easy to think that we know best and often we’ve been doing this for so long that maybe it just happens naturally: to unintentionally expel them from the conversation about their health and to answer for them, but DON’T.
Accentuate their voice
Help them to find confidence to speak up for themselves
Bring them into the conversation
One day, our kids are going to grow up to be adults and they will find themselves in their appointments one on one with their doctors—maybe a new doctor even—but if they haven’t practised speaking up for themselves, and if they don’t know and understand their own medical history, then those appointments are going to be a source of anxiety and fear. It’ll leave them with questions about why they don’t know and understand their own health. We have an opportunity to teach kids how to speak up for their needs, how to understand their health, and to help build their confidence when speaking to someone like a doctor.
I recently spoke to a teen who shared that their medications—that had been working—had been stopped because their parent and doctor had spoken and felt they no longer needed them. She felt that she hadn’t been consulted or even addressed in the conversation and now she was mentally struggling because someone had made a decision about her health without her consent, because of her age.
In that room we are all people – doctors, patients, and advocates. We all have a role and not one is more important or more knowledgeable about a topic of an individual patient’s health. In fact, as the parent/support person we are most likely the LEAST knowledgeable, but we have a role too or we wouldn’t be there. It’s our job to help our child, the patient, to communicate through their pain. Like in the case of my son, if I had chosen to speak for him, he could’ve left that appointment feeling dismissed or unheard which would impact his experience in his appointments. Communication is a huge factor in healthcare and pediatric patients, transitioning pediatric to adult care patients, and frankly adult patients too need to feel heard and understood when it comes to matters of their own bodies.
So, if you’re a parent at your child’s appointment, please ensure you invite your child to their doctor’s appointment.
