Yes… I’m staring… at your feeding pump!
It was near the end of last summer when I took my girls to see a live Signing Time show at a local school theater. Having been long time fans of Rachel and the amazing work she does for the hearing impaired, I made sure we got there early and got a front row seat… I was there with a friend and her two little girls as well. Although Rachel was a bit under the weather, the show was fantastic and the kids had a blast! Well, except for the fact that Allison went into total hysterics the minute Hopkins looked her way. The poor kid ~ the cute little animated frog on Signing Time suddenly turned into a freakishly larger-than-life stuffed animal that towered over her own Mommy, even. Allison spent most of the show obsessed with Hopkins’ exact location and making sure that she was as far away from “him” as possible!
As expected, there were a large number of kids with special needs, including my own. I had brought along her feeding tube and wanted to give her some water before we left. In true Allison fashion, she thought it wasn’t going in fast enough, took the syringe full of water and held it as high as she could ~ “see… you have to hold it up and it goes faster!” Ahem. Yes, I see. Thank you.
We hung out after the show for a long time, waiting in line to get our chance to talk with Rachel and take pictures, having her sign the items we purchased. As we eventually made our way out of the building, to the left there was a van parked in one of the handicapped spots. There were two moms and a few kids all trying to get settled in the van. Something caught my eye and I was staring intently.
Now, any socially conscious person would have realized very quickly that they should stop staring, say “Hi” and move along… but me? No, I keep staring until that little voice inside told me that I was making them all uncomfortable. Mom #2 was starting to give me the “How dare you!?!” look and Mom #1 just looked hurt and baffled by the crazy woman who so rudely wouldn’t stop looking at them. I’m sure she thought I was staring at the child, her son, who had been in the wheelchair. I presume she thought I was rudely curious about the little boy who was being hooked up to a feeding bag… aha!
Knowing that I had inadvertently crossed the line, I decided that I couldn’t let it go, I had to go and explain my serious faux pas.
“I’m sorry… Is that bag for the Infinity feeding pump??? I’ve been wanting one of those!”
The tension immediately released, she pulls out the feeding pump and we regale each other with stories of home health care companies and the benefits of the Infinity over the regular Enteralite ambulatory feeding pump. I still chuckle when I think about it. I know that I am not the first person to feel this way, but seriously, if you are curious about something, just ask. I hate it when people stare at us and are clearly afraid to make the first move.
In the latter part of 2005, I was juggling my then 3-year-old’s need for socialization in preschool and my 2-year-old’s severe dependency on IV nutrition (TPN – Total Parenteral Nutrition) . In order to make it work for all of us, I had to schlep Allison, IV’s and all, into preschool twice a week to drop off and pick up Kira. Several times, Allison would be asleep, so I would have to carry her, her large black bag of TPN and cover her with blankets. [Although I parked next to the door and could have seen her the entire time I was in the building, the chance of her spitting up and aspirating while alone in her carseat were great, so I HAD to take her with me.] The looks I got were priceless ~ everything from plain curiosity to pity to deep concern. You could feel people watching us, but the second I would turn to meet their gaze, I would magically find them deeply engrossed in something else. You know how it is ~ we’ve all done it before. Even me.
I was eternally grateful when one of my favorite preschool moms actually touched the IV line filled with Allison’s TPN and asked “What’s this for?” I think I nearly bowled her over with the sheer volume of information that came spilling from my mouth ~ it had been pent up for so long and I was dying to tell someone there what was going on! You could feel every Mother’s ear in that hallway straining to catch the details of our conversation.
Maybe the next time I have the opportunity to be stared at, I’ll have enough compassion for the curiosity of others to make it just a tad easier to ask me what they’re dying to know…
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