When I began brainstorming ideas for the Child Life Cooperative (now Child Life To Go) blog, I realized that many of the stories I wanted to share and blog about surrounded times when I made a mistake. Perhaps it is my tendency to always leave a room and reflect, “What could I have done differently?”
We all make mistakes. Throughout my child life journey, I have had to work on not being too hard on myself when those mistakes happen. I have been guilty of striving for perfection instead of striving to humbly learn. I have had to trust that mistakes are necessary for me to grow as a child life specialist.
Situation: A hematology nurse waved me into a room where an eight year old patient was nervously awaiting a blood draw. She was huddled up in the chair and continued to say “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.”
Child Life Intervention: I first of all asked the patient to tell me what she “didn’t want to do” as a way to learn more and assess what she needed. She was able to verbalize that she does not like needles and being poked. Makes sense, right? I validated her emotions. I then informed her why she needs her blood drawn (in this case: “Your blood tells us a lot about how your body is working and if the medicine is helping. We want your blood to work the right way.”)
After discussing the why, we then moved into the what: preparing her for the different steps of the blood draw. As we discussed each step, we also talked about coping strategies. One particular coping strategy we talked about is how the patient could request “freeze spray” (I also call this Elsa spray, snowman spray, etc.) to help make the skin really cold and numb so she wouldn’t feel the poke as much. The patient liked this idea. I then stepped out to grab a few distraction items and let the nurse know she could begin setting up.
“I have had to trust that mistakes are necessary for me to grow as a child life specialist.”
The Whoopsies: When I returned I had assumed that the patient told the nurse about her coping plan. The tourniquet was placed, the skin was cleaned, the iPad game was being played and then…the tears began to flow. The patient was becoming increasingly nervous as she awaited the poke and I began to coach her in deep breathing and signaled to the nurse to place the poke. Right before I did so, however, I paused for a moment. My train of thought went a little something like this: “Wait! Freezy spray. Oh dear, I can tell the patient is getting more and more anxious. It probably won’t be helpful to pause in order to get the freeze spray. The patient also didn’t say anything. She is probably okay?”
She wasn’t okay.
“No! Freeze spray! You forgot! You forgot!” She sobbed.
The blood draw was finished but the patient was beside herself.
Service Recovery: I knelt down next to the patient and took her hand. “I know how much you were wanting that freezy spray. I forgot to tell the nurse that you wanted it. It was my fault and I am so sorry. Will you please forgive me?”
The patient sniffled and graciously forgave me for my error. We then sat and brainstormed together ways we could ensure that I do not make this mistake again. As we continued to talk, the patient became more and more lively and animated as she joked of other alternatives I could try to ensure I never forget again, like writing big poster reminders to hang in the room.
Now, was this the worst mistake that could have happened? No. But something I learned through this mistake of forgetfulness is how owning responsibility and seeking reconciliation ended up being an incredibly meaningful intervention with the patient. I watched as she quickly returned to baseline and grew in her confidence. Though it wasn’t our preference, she was able to do the blood draw without freeze spray. She boldly shared with others that entered the room how she was so brave. And she gained mastery and control by choosing to forgive me.