Bring Your Camera When You Take a Child to the Emergency Room

When my son was about eight, he came home complaining of pain in his groin after a visit to my mother's house. My brother and his family had also been there, and the children had been watching television in another room. I had heard the shout of pain from Jason, and on investigating he said his cousin had kicked him. My nephew said it was an accident. I didn't see any obvious damage at the time, so I just gave him comfort and went back to the adults. I expected that by the next morning all would be well.

The next morning Jason was limping and I began to be concerned that maybe there was something wrong that wasn't obvious. I did know Jason had a low pain threshold, but I did want to make sure there was nothing wrong that should be treated. His doctor said to take him to the emergency room to have him checked out.

Jason was pretty apprehensive, as most children are when brought into official contact with medical personnel -- especially in an emergency room setting. Jason had never been to the ER before. When we got there, I noticed I had a camera in my purse, and I decided to see if using it could help distract Jason from his fears. I told him I would be taking his picture every step of the way and that at the end I would show everyone how brave he had been. And that's what I did.

If so, what was he or she afraid of what might happen? Jason was normally healthy and happy, but not when he was hurt, or thought he was. If he thought a doctor visit might include a shot or other unpleasant procedure, he was definitely apprehensive. How about your children?

When we got to the emergency room and checked in, one of the first things they did was put Jason in a wheelchair, since the problem involved his leg or groin area. That surprised me, but in spite of the way he's holding his head in this picture, he actually enjoyed wheeling himself around when he got the hang of it.

He was not in a lot of pain, especially since he wasn't walking. He's probably holding his head because he's not sure exactly where they will take him in that wheelchair and what will happen when he gets there. But he knows I will be taking his picture, so he will try to act more bravely than he feels.

Looking up at X ray equipment can be downright frightening. It's huge and it hangs right over you. What it it falls? What does it do to you? I'm sure these thoughts passed through Jason's mind as he lay on that cold hard table and looked up.

I assured Jason that an X ray doesn't hurt -- that it's just a very large and very fancy camera. All it does is take a picture of what's under his skin where his pain is so the doctor can see what might be wrong. My explanation took away his fear of that procedure and it turned to curiosity. .

Since I took the pictures for this article over twenty years ago, my memory was pretty fuzzy as to the order these next pictures should be in. I was able to call on my Squidoo friend Beth Day, who is a nurse, for help. I sent her the pictures with what I thought was the right order. She looked at them and explained the ones I didn't understand. I would have asked more questions and taken notes if I'd known then I'd be writing about this in twenty years.

A few people have expressed surprise that I was able to take a camera into the ER. I don't remember asking anyone if it was okay, since I was only photographing my son. The nurse who drew the blood gave permission to be included when I explained why I wanted the pictures. If someone had tried to stop me, I would have put the camera away.

That day I happened to have a small camera in my purse quite by accident and decided to use it. Most medical personnel are probably too busy to care what you are doing with your child as long as it helps, not hurts. I was not walking the hall trying to take pictures of nurses treating patients I didn't know. Nor was I just walking into rooms to try to photograph such patients. I'm sure such a privacy violation would have been against the rules.

I'm sure if you unknowingly violate a hospital rule, someone will let you know. I didn't see any signs about not using a camera in the building, such as the signs I saw about no smoking and other such rules. So I didn't feel I was doing something wrong in taking my own child's picture. If someone else is involved, such as someone performing a procedure, I let them know what I want to do and why and get permission before including them in the picture. Most don't mind.

No major problems were found and for another six years Jason led a normal, happy, active life, swimming, biking, and spending time with family and friends. We enjoyed homeschooling, camping trips, and traveling to many places in the United States. My camera went everywhere with us, just in case something unusual might happen, and also to chronicle everything we enjoyed seeing and doing.

But neither I nor my camera were present in 1991 when Jason had a fatal accident on his first jet ski ride. This time there was no ER visit. He collided with a motorboat on his way to the shore. By the time help arrived, he was almost gone. His leg had been cut by the boat's propeller, and he bled to death before the paramedics even arrived. He was conscious only long enough to call for help. You can read the full story of that fatal jet ski ride here.

I often wonder if a premonition of how he would die might have been behind his fear at the sight of his own blood -- even when there was no pain. I'm told Jason's death was quick and that he probably did not feel the pain because he was in shock. He died in the arms of our pastor, who had invited him to attend the outing at the lake that day. We are thankful for the years Jason was with us and brightened our lives, and we will always miss him. His one great unfulfilled desire was to ride a jet ski. I wonder if he would have gotten on had he known it would take him to Heaven.

The picture here was taken on the day of my aunt's funeral. I had taken my mom to Long Beach, and before the service, I had my mom take this picture. A dear family friend had made this wreath to adorn Jason's casket. It had hung on our kitchen wall since after the memorial service. It was beginning to look pretty grungy after twelve years, and it wasn't washable, so I decided to retire it where Jason was buried. It seemed fitting.

Please leave any comments here. Feel free to share ways you have dealt with your children's fears of medical procedures