A Picture is Truly Worth A Thousand Words (A...

"I'll be right there," I told my son, as I hung up the telephone.

It appears my four year-old granddaughter had swallowed a penny and was now at the hospital emergency room waiting to see a doctor.

Upon arriving, I could not find Roger, Jr. or Madison anywhere. After checking with the receptionist, I was told that she had been taken to the X-ray department and would return shortly. I was given the okay to go back and wait in examining room A-3 until she returned.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, I began to pace the floor. I stepped out into the hallway and began to look around.

"I should be home watching that damn ball game," came a very harsh sounding adult voice from behind the half closed door room A-2.

I stopped beside the door, pulled out my handkerchief and began wiping the sweat from my hands.

"I'm sorry daddy, really I am," a young boy replied.

"Just lay there and keep quiet until the doctor gets here," the man replied, very harshly.

I was about to step away when the door opened. There before me stood a very large man with a very rough looking face.

"Good evening," I said, as he looked directly at me.

"EVENING."

"Heading down to get me a cup of coffee at the coffee room," I told him, as I pointed down the hallway.

He said nothing, so I turned and walked down the hallway.

As I turned the corner, I noticed two young boys, about ten or eleven years of age, each taking turns walking past a room. Each time they passed they would peer in. Each time, they would stop pass the doorway and snicker at one another. As I approached their location, they quickly walked away and disappeared into the bathroom. When I reached the doorway, I stopped and looked inside to see what they were up to. Lying on a gurney, at the far end of the room, was a young boy about the age of six, maybe seven. On the boy's head as a large tumor about the size of a grapefruit, it appeared to be badly scarred. The boy's father was feeding the boy spoonfuls of Jell-O, from a small plastic cup. Quickly, before being noticed, I stepped aside and began walking toward the coffee room.

While preparing my coffee, the door opened. Standing before me was the large gentleman from room A-3.

"Is that coffee free?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I think so. Well, I hope so. I get some every time I come here, I told him, with a grin on my face."

"My kid almost tore off his fingernail. His sister slammed the damn door on his hand."

"Kids do that kind of stuff. My granddaughter swallowed a penny."

"I was just getting ready to watch the damn football game when this happened. Now I'll miss the entire game," he said, in that gruff sounding voice of his.

"Yea kids, can't live with'em and can't live without'em," I responded.

He just shook his head and said nothing.

After he got himself a cup of coffee, we both headed down the hallway toward our respective rooms.

"Have you got a minute?" I asked him, as we walked along.

"What's what?" he questioned.

When we approached the room where the boy had a tumor, I stopped and pointed inside. Just as we looked in, the father bent over and kissed the boy on the large, scarred tumor.

Slowly nodding my head, back and forth, I looked directly at the man and said, "I can only imagine that that father wishes his son was here today because of a torn away fingernail or because he had swallowed a penny," I said softly.

The man tightly pressed his lips together: a look of total despair came over his face.

I wish I had not seen that," replied the man.

"Why?"

"That is a picture I will never get out of my mind. NOT EVER!"

"I know what you mean."

"I think my son has a very serious injury. One that needs my immediate and full attention," he replied, and as turned and began walking back down the hallway.

"Yes, and my little granddaughter is in need of mine also."

True stores from The Life and Times of Roger Dean Kiser, author, child advocate

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