About 20 years ago, I was treating a boy at my pediatric and general ophthalmology practice located in the Quad Cities area along the Illinois/Iowa border. “Benny” was a kind-hearted child around the age of 5, and for several years I’d been medically managing his amblyopia and strabismus (for which he had a prior surgery). Typically, he was very comfortable and compliant in my office and often initiated friendly conversation on a variety of topics. I imagine his comfort at my office came from the fact that one of his parents was also a medical professional.

Around this time, I was diagnosed with an acoustic neuroma, necessitating a craniotomy for resection. Knowing that I would be out for surgery, I began preparing my patients, including Benny, for my prolonged absence. When treating patients, especially children, it is important to give them and their families plenty of advance notice so they can prepare to see a different doctor. Benny and his parents knew of my upcoming craniotomy about 3 to 4 months before it occurred.

AN UNEXPECTED GIFT

During his amblyopia check 10 days before my operation, Benny and his mother surprised me by bringing along a brightly wrapped gift package. Along with several pieces of hard candy, three metal puzzles and a book of positive sayings and stories, the package included a square of yellow blanket with sateen edging on one side. This was part of Benny’s “magic blanket,” which helped him sleep every night and overcome feeling “sad” after his strabismus surgery. He gave it to me in the hopes that it would help me with my upcoming surgery as it had his.

Mom explained how the family had saved his cherished infant blanket and cut it into squares to “extend its magical life.” The “magic” was a story Benny thought up on his own, she said.

STILL CHERISHED

My recovery from the craniotomy surgery was excellent, all things considered; the tumor that was removed had affected my vestibular nerve, so I had to relearn walking and driving.

Medically, Benny was a success as well, with bilaterally equal vision, excellent measurable binocular depth perception and a small residual controllable phoria. He remained in good health for the remaining 5 years that he was in my care, before aging out of my pediatric clinic.

The metal puzzles Benny gifted me ended up in our family toy room, the book still resides on one of our grandchildren’s bookshelves and the blanket piece, which I have kept to this day, remains a cherished keepsake. It was an extraordinarily heartfelt gift, and I still tear up when I reflect on Benny’s story. OM