I once had a nurse argue with me that hospital policy was what was best for my daughter.  “Hospital Policy” meant that I was supposed to leave my daughter in a metal crib with all sorts of tubes and wires hooked up to her.  Now let me explain something about my daughter; she is very active, and not very understanding about proper hospital bed behavior (for instance: that most people in hospital beds lay quietly in hopes of getting better).  I argued as best as I could that Lizzie would be much better off, and much safer, in her wheelchair than she would be in the bed.  My thinking, (knowing my daughter as I do), was that as soon as I left, my daughter would be rolling, doing the Curly Shuffle, and causing utter chaos.  Of course, they didn’t believe me, and argued that they knew best.  Hospital policy, and all.

Well, the hour got late.  And as hard as it was, I had to leave.  My son was getting out of school, and with my husband at work, I was the only one able to pick him up.  I packed up my things, kissed my daughter goodbye (while imploring her to behave herself), and scooted out the door, announcing as I did to the nurse on duty that I had left her in the crib as instructed.

A half hour later, my son and I returned to the hospital.  As soon as we got off of the elevator on the floor, I heard her.  My daughter, singing her little heart out in her sing-song manner.  I found her, in her glory, safely in her throne at the nurses station.  The same nurse who had lectured me about hospital policy a half an hour earlier came up to me and said, “Five minutes after you left, we realized that leaving her in the crib was not going to work.”

Really?  Why didn’t I think of that!

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