Toys in Hand, Staff Helps Patients Through Fear and Pain

A3-year-old boy could not stand one more dose of the chemical wash he had to swish around in his mouth as part of his cancer therapy. No one wanted to use restraints on the child; no one wanted to anaesthetize him. The call went out to the Children's Hospital Child Life staff.

A specialist sat down and talked with the boy, learning that he loved cars. It wasn't long before the boy readily took his required swig of the foul chemical, then spit it out onto a waiting toy car. "Carwash," he pronounced with a certain pride.

Another mission accomplished for the nine Child Life specialists at Children's, the smallest staff at the hospital, yet one that serves its entire population. Short on staff, always begging for toys, computers and other materials, Child Life is the bridge between the scary, impersonal mechanics of medicine and the internal life of a kid whose body isn't holding up its end of the bargain.

Terry Spearman, who has spent two decades finding ways to make kids' stays at Children's just a bit less frightening, travels the hallways with a bright red wagon full of dolls, toys and pictures. Some kids think she's just one more person trying to cheer them up, like the hospital's clowns and the artist in residence. But what looks like play is often an effort to prepare kids for surgery or intrusive procedures that are hard to fathom when you're a little guy.

On any given day, Spearman, the Child Life director, and the other specialists might help a kid understand what's wrong with him by using a big soft doll that opens up to show internal organs, or they rustle up a laptop so a teenager can connect with her instant-messaging friends, or they deploy a puppet to talk to a child who has gone silent from all the stress of being in the hospital.

Harried, impatient doctors and nurses sometimes don't take the time to allay a child's fears; that's when Child Life slips in and gives the kid a faceless doll -- volunteers at a seniors group in the Lincolnia section of Fairfax County make the dolls for Children's -- on which the child can draw a face and talk about how she feels.

Child Life runs get-togethers for parents whose kids are in the hospital, pet therapy sessions at which hospitalized kids can play with dogs and a program through which siblings can learn what it will be like to visit their brother or sister in the loud and frightening intensive-care unit. "We show them Polaroids of the unit and talk about how this is the sickest place in the hospital, and then when we actually go in, they can focus on their brother or sister," Spearman says.

Along with raising spirits, the Child Life staff works on the saddest cases. "We call them 'goodbye visits,' " Spearman says. "Some parents want us to tell the sibling their brother or sister is going to die. Sometimes they want to hold the child while we talk. We help the family manage the experience."

Most of the work, however, focuses on finding ways to help children cope with their own illness and the ways in which it makes them different from other kids. When a Child Life specialist noticed that kids who come in three times a week for dialysis were their bubbly, distinctive selves up until the moment they had to change into a hospital gown, the program's staff created a design-your-own gown contest, letting kids decorate gowns and make them their own. Coming next: a fashion show featuring kid-designed gowns.

"What gets to me is the resilience, the resilience," Spearman says of the children she meets each day. "I love these kids."

Sadly, despite near-universal acclaim for the program, Child Life has not been able to grow as quickly as the hospital has expanded. With only one worker for every 25 or so beds, the program cannot serve nearly as many kids as its staff would like to.

Rich Morrison, a Vienna financial adviser whose son Kent was at Children's for an extended period a few years ago when my son spent several weeks there, has responded to Child Life's needs by creating a benefit golf tournament at Lansdowne Resort. Proceeds will go to Kent's Foundation for Child Life to endow a new counselor position and to buy the toys and other tools that the counselors use in their work.

The only golf I've ever played is mini, but Morrison's dedication to this effort is inspiring, and if you do play golf, I heartily recommend a trip over to Lansdowne on Monday. Morrison and I have much to thank Children's for, and so does every parent whose kid might one day need to go to a scary place.

To learn more, go to http://www.tournamentforchampions.net or call 703-534-4600.

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