Dad's Letter to the Doctor
“Truthfully, I was nervous about the appointment to begin with and I am saddened that my apprehensions were validated during our visit”
Words from Andrew, sent to our pediatric ophthalmologist.
Last week Kenzie had an appointment at the eye doctor, and if you remember, I was absolutely furious with how she was treated. Her needs were not only unmet in that visit, they were blatantly ignored. I wanted to write a letter to the doctor, but the problem was - I wasn’t there - it wasn’t me who watched it all unfold.
Andrew took Kenzie, Andrew had to restrain his daughter while she cried and thrashed, Andrew had to witness first hand what it looks like to disregard disabilities. And that first sentence is so upsettingly true - families who care for someone with disabilities walk into a doctors office with fears, and more often that not, walk out with those fears being validated.
Andrew and I are two very different parents, I’m loud and energetic in all ways, he’s like a gentle giant moving quietly but firmly forward. When I asked him to write a letter to the doctor, he hesitated for several days. I knew he found the idea of “making noise” uncomfortable, but I pushed him, reminding him that if we don’t tell anyone about the gaps, our kids will continue to fall through them.
What he wrote amazed me. It was a beautiful representation of a parent who will calmly but firmly not accept less than what his child deserves at every turn.
Advocacy looks different for everyone, even within families it shows up in different ways. For some, they burst through the gates shouting at the top of their lungs what they won’t settle for, some others, it takes years to find a spark. It feels strange and goes against what most of us were raised to do - rocking the boat, disturbing the status quo, calling out behavior that is unacceptable - it all takes a lot of courage and energy.
While this letter is certainly not a summary of Andrew’s overall feelings about advocating for his daughter , it is absolutely a good start of showing the line he draws in the sand for unacceptable care for his daughter.
The last line, I might just frame, complete with a mic drop emoji for effect:
“I will need to do better as a parent to advocate for my daughter as we inevitably navigate the health care system in Vancouver, but I can say, that it will not involve your practice moving forward”.