Discharge Day

The smell of flowers blooming filled the air, as I walked to my car. I knew the day that I walked into their home for the first time that this day would come; but that doesn’t make it any easier. For the next several minutes, tears roll down my cheeks, as I try to pull myself together before I reach my next home. That family ┬áneeds me too.

The child I just discharged was dear to my heart. I have been going to that house for over two years…laughed with them…cried with them…rejoiced with them. I am a pediatric PT and I work in the early intervention system, where I see the patients in their own homes. They all work their way into my heart and then the rules say that at age three…it all ends.

I feel great about what we have accomplished together. Every milestone was celebrated and enjoyed to the fullest; but the child still needs so much more and I am no longer the one who will be there to help her learn. Thank goodness for the wonderful clinics that I have referred them to; but I don’t want to stop.

There are so many joys in this job; but the sorrows are there too.

As I arrived at the next house, I saw a small child peering out the front door, watching for me–it’s my next patient. The smile on her face makes the sorrow in my heart dim just a little…

 

carotummy