Behind the Wave

The best tradition in college football is the Hawkeye Wave. At the end of the first quarter of every Hawkeye football game, 70,000 fans in Kinnick Stadium turn and wave to the kids watching the game from the windows of the UI’s Stead Family Children’s Hospital. I have seen the wave on TV, and over the years, I have driven or walked by the children’s hospital many times. But I must admit that I thought of it mainly as a building – until last week.

In December, I shared that my 12-year-old granddaughter Phoebe has leukemia. She and her family have since moved to Iowa, and thankfully, her cancer is in remission. She still has a long road ahead of her and is receiving chemotherapy treatments at the UI Children’s Hospital. The regimen has been difficult, and she required several weeks of inpatient care. Last week, I spent the day in the hospital with Phoebe so her mother and father could take care of some of the paperwork related to their new home.

First impressions are important. Because of viruses going around, patients were only allowed four visitors, and I wasn’t on the list. The person at the security desk called up to the floor, and since my daughter-in-law had to leave for the day, they quickly got approval for me to stay with Phoebe.

Once I entered the Pediatric Oncology Ward the nurse had me wash my hands and put on a mask. She was expecting me and knew who Phoebe was. She pointed me down the hallway to Phoebe’s room. When I entered the room, Phoebe was watching the in-house TV channel, and she spoke excitedly about the hospital staff and facilities. Even with an NG tube and the poking and prodding that comes with every hospital stay, she was in great spirits. She especially loved Cornwell (‘Corn Dog’ for short), the therapy dog. She really wanted pizza, and I am pretty sure that if she could have kept it down, they would have given her some. How she handled everything made me so happy that I had to hold back tears.

One of the lessons from this journey is that cancer, particularly when it strikes a child, doesn't just target the individual; it impacts the entire family. So, it makes perfect sense that the Pediatric Oncology Ward is designed to care for families. Since moving to Iowa, my daughter-in-law has practically lived at the hospital with Phoebe. In addition to caring for Phoebe, she is still breastfeeding Phoebe’s baby sister! The hospital room was huge. There was plenty of room for a crib, a sofa sleeper, and a recliner.

In last Saturday’s Gazette, Elijah Decious wrote about the University of Iowa Dance Marathon celebrating 30 years of fighting childhood cancer. The impact of this student organization is felt in more than just the $34 million they have raised. Throughout the day, student volunteers came and played cards or board games with Phoebe between their classes. Again, I found myself tearing up a bit as I saw how much these young people cared and how well they interacted with Phoebe. I am sure the same sort of thing was happening all across the cancer ward.

Phoebe had a touch screen near her bed that she would use to play games on the big TV in the room. During the day, the in-house TV channel had story readings, sessions for different ages, and even interactive games. Phoebe really enjoyed a game where a movie quote would appear on the screen, and kids would use the touch screen to name the character who said it. The hospital library ran an in-house ‘ad’ letting kids know that books and crafts could be sent up to the rooms. I heard the librarian ask Phoebe questions to figure out what she might enjoy. I should probably mention that while each child has a touch screen, the hospital understands that kids today have phones. Phoebe chose to use her own phone to play the various games.

At lunchtime, a Child Life Specialist came by and took Phoebe to play video games, giving me time to go down to the cafeteria and have lunch. Later, a volunteer came by in a Spiderman costume to talk to Phoebe. Spiderman is her little brother Zechariah’s favorite, so she had to get a selfie and send it to him!

The ward also has a teacher who works with kids’ schools to help them keep up with schoolwork while they are absent. The staff social workers came by to help prepare for the transition back home, and my daughter-in-law told me that she got daily parking passes and lunch vouchers to help defer expenses.

So many people were spending time with Phoebe that it was easy to forget that this was the Pediatric Oncology Ward, and I guess that was the point. The medical staff was also first-rate!

During the day, I saw multiple nurses, technicians, and doctors. Every one of them interacted directly with Phoebe; they let me know what they were doing but communicated with her at her level. The nurses getting vitals and handling her feeding tube did more than just come in and take readings. They all spent time talking to Phoebe, and she seemed to enjoy talking with all of them. She was experiencing some anxiety about an injection she would get that evening, but the doctor was able to talk to her and help her calm down.

I hope none of you ever has to see the inside of a pediatric cancer ward. But I have. I have seen the care or, dare I say, the love that the volunteers and professionals of the Stead Family Children’s Hospital have shown to Phoebe. I am not sure I will ever be able to watch the Hawkeye Wave again without it bringing a tear to my eyes.

David Chung is a Gazette editorial fellow. david.chung@thegazette.com