Listen Up, Folks

I'm currently working on an essay for a contest in Real Simple magazine, with the goal of winning $3,000, getting my essay published, and getting a trip for two to New York City. The theme is your life's greatest regret or something you really wish you had done differently. Without giving away the farm, I am writing about my tendency to believe that I know much more than I actually do, and the resulting lack of receptivity to feedback, and not paying attention to new information. My social work career has humbled me greatly in this area, and I realize most people probably do this at least some of the time, but it's something I want to improve and be on the watch for. (Keep reading, there's more)


One of the events that has helped me to realize this tendency is: (ta-da) David's birth. Please see my page, "Mac and Cheese and Overwhelm-ment" for a more detailed look at how this has become an issue, but basically: for the first year or so after David was born, we had nearly constant feedback from all manner of professionals: medical, nutritional, developmental, etc. He was in the NICU for 92 days and then had open-heart surgery at 4.5 months. David has seen nearly every pediatric specialist imaginable, and had dozens if not hundreds of tests. He also has Early Intervention services, which includes about 5 different therapists and a service coordinator. This led to an absolute lack of desire on my part to ever talk to a parent of another child with special needs, especially Down syndrome - I viewed it as another thing to put on the to-do list, that was not mandatory, therefore I ducked a bunch of opportunities because we were so busy with everything else. I have since become more open to this possibility, and have enjoyed it.

This made me remember a conversation I had with Dr. Marjorie (I have decided to refer to all providers by their first names), the only female partner in the cardiology practice that works with David. This conversation occurred when David was about 20 hours old, and we really had no clue what was going to happen next, or even if he was going to live. She had seen David right after birth and then had  talked with me in Recovery. In the 20-hr-old conversation, she talked a lot about pulmonary pressures, how David's were elevated now, which happens immediately after birth, and it would be helpful if his stayed high for awhile longer than usual, as long as they came down at some point. At least, I think that's what she said. I was really not paying close attention, which I will attribute to being so afraid and stressed out, as well as being given a massive amount of narcotics, and sleep-deprived from same. Really, I was just waiting for her to say, and for me to understand, what was wrong with these pressures.

When she stopped talking and I hadn't heard anything, she asked me what I was thinking. I asked her, "so what's wrong?" And she answered, nothing, everything was where it should be at that point, she was just explaining things. I suppose I gave her an odd look, because she gave me an odd look; I said, "If I had known that, I would've listened to you differently." Her response: "why?" which is a perfectly logical, reasonable question, and I don't remember what I offered in response. Aside from receiving odd looks from one of David's cardiologists, I credit this (missed) conversation/lecture as the reason why we have never had a really thorough understanding of David's pulmonary hypertension. It would've been good information to have, since that was the heart surgeon's main concern after the surgery - this was why he continued to need supplemental oxygen for the next year and a half (it helps keep the pulmonary arteries and whatnot soft and supple, whereas after a loooong time of high pressures, the lungs can become hard/inflexible), when our main goal of surgery was that he wouldn't need the oxygen anymore afterwards. In some of my first posts, I talked a lot about "Post-Surgery Letdown," and along with about 50 other issues, still being on oxygen was what chiefly bummed us out. You can also read posts from a few months back, "Hey hey Dr. K" and "A Quick Response," for more details on this, if for some reason you want that. But the point of this post is, I could have saved us A LOT of stress if I had simply listened a little better.

Now, there's not too much judgement on this particular conversation, because life right then was a total nightmare, and all we'd heard so far was all the things that were wrong, so I was not expecting to hear anything positive (which I guess is another Listening Lesson). And if it'd occurred to me that it might bear looking into, we could've gotten more information and I'm sure Dr. Aaron (his main cardiologist, we love him) would've explained it to us and maybe even draw one of his little sketches. So, not too much agony over this, but it is something I have filed away for future use: just listen, for the love of Pete, and don't decide ahead of time what the conversation is about.