Worth the Pain

We parents often hope to shield our children from pain and suffering. At least, from pain and suffering that can be anticipated and prevented.

Sometimes, however, that pain is a necessary side effect of a treatment that will actually help the child. That's when things get complicated. We want to help, but we don't want to hurt while helping.

Recently, I've felt particularly grateful for two difficult decisions my husband and I have made for our children. 

Prickly Pain
We live in the Ohio Valley, home to many pollen allergy sufferers. The airborne pollens become trapped in the valley, wreaking havoc on those of us with allergies to them. The "typical" range for pollen counts in this area, averaged throughout the year, is 0-20. This week last year, the pollen count was 142. This week - right now - the pollen count is nearly 2000. Yes, you read that right: two thousand. 

Our son, now 12, has suffered from spring allergies (pollen, etc) since the age of 2. His symptoms are the typical miserable ones: runny nose, sneezing, itchy eyes, hives, fatigue. After years of treating these symptoms with a medley of Zyrtec, Benadryl, eye drops, and nasal sprays, we made the decision last fall to begin immunotherapy with him. In essence, this involves regular visits to the allergist (weekly at first, then tapering off a bit, for two or three years) to receive injections of the substance to which he is allergic. Over time, the body stops reacting to the substance. In my son's case, that means that his body will stop reacting when it senses pollens, and he'll feel better in the springtime.

This is his first spring since his treatment began. And he's flying through the season, even with this higher-than-usual pollen count! Is this even the same kid? No runny nose, no itchy eyes, no hives whatsoever, no fatigue. It's clear he's feeling good, and I love seeing him enjoying the springtime like he never has before. I think he would say that the brief pain of weekly shots is definitely a worthwhile expense. 

Can You Hear Me Now?
One of our daughters has been deaf since birth (or shortly thereafter). She does not sign, however; thanks to the miracle of medical technology, she hears and speaks. Of course, we are reminded all too often that her hearing is only as good as the devices on her ears. When she was little, her hearing was "borderline." Relative to her hearing loss, that means that it was severe enough that she needed the most powerful hearing aids available on the market to amplify sounds loudly enough for her to detect and discriminate among most speech sounds. Yet it was not profound enough to medically qualify her for a cochlear implant. A cochlear implant, in contrast to a hearing aid, does not merely amplify residual hearing. Rather, it bypasses the ear altogether, sending auditory signals via the auditory nerve directly to the brain, where the electric signals are interpreted as sounds.

At age 4, our daughter's base hearing level went from bad to worse in one ear. It was heartbreaking to see her struggle as this occurred, yet the loss then qualified her for a cochlear implant. People - especially hearing people - who are not familiar with the "Deaf vs deaf" culture wars may not realize that the cochlear implant is a subject of heated debate among two camps: the people who feel the surgical implantation of children with this medical device is akin to child abuse, and the people who feel that it's a medical intervention that helps children function in their hearing world. My husband and I are members of the latter camp.

Still, it was with a heavy heart that we sent our baby into surgery. That "baby" was 4-1/2 years old and missed her hearing; was frustrated; told us she couldn't hear right and wanted that fixed. But even so, we knew there were risks involved, and that she had a tough row to hoe in the coming months as she would recover from surgery and adjust to hearing sounds differently.

It was one of the best decisions we've ever made.

That girl is a cochlear implant success story! She loves it. With that ear, she hears in the "normal" range for one-on-one conversation and the "mild" range in noisy situations. Because she hears speech sounds at all frequencies, she learned how to speak them too, so her speech is normal. 

{Note: I wanted to post some pictures of our little trooper as she prepared for and recovered from surgery. But the pics were taken in the pre-digital days (at least, for us) seven years ago. And my scanner flaked out today. So if you're interested in pics of our cutie-pie, check back in a few days!} 


We're not the only ones with stories like these to tell. I can think of dozens of other parents I know who have made similar difficult decisions: ones that cause their children short-term pain but that yield long-term benefits.

Do you have a story to tell?