Gail

Notice there is a difference in the spelling from the previous Gale.  That is because this is a different Gail.

When Sam was small, I had to take him to get an eye exam at our local pediatric eye clinic.  It was a NIGHTMARE!  I swore that I would never repeat that experience.  When I was having my Scarlet O'Hara "As God as my witness, I will never have an eye exam again" moment, I was unaware that the state of Ohio could force the issue by requiring that Sam pass an eye exam every so often in school.  I was not happy and fought it as long as I could, but eventually had to buckle down and git 'er done.  By the time I had given up and made the appointment, I had discovered a little gem of a person available at the hospital who could ease my eye clinic pain.  The person is called a "child life specialist."  When your child is facing a potentially unpleasant trip to the hospital, the child life specialist is a cross between a fairy godmother and a genie. She can make videos appear.  She can get staff to understand that when the mother of a child with autism says, "We can't change the room 3 times," it is because bad things will happen and not because she is too lazy to walk across the office.  Gail was that fairy godmother, genie of a little gem.

She helped develop a protocol for eye clinic appointments that made my second time around a fantastic experience.  She worked with me, Sam and the doctors to come up with some methods that would allow Sam to actually "read" the eye chart.  That meant that not only did I appease the state, but I was able to find out that Sam had normal vision.  I loved working with Gail.  I'm not the only one.  A Facebook friend was posting pictures of her experience in the NICU 8 years ago with a narrative.  At the time, they were facing the possibility that their son would not survive his surgery.  The series of pictures showed her daughter holding her brother for the first, and what could have been the last time, ever.  Then she said how the woman explained the surgery to her daughter in a way that a little one could understand and gave her a box of special things to remind her of her baby brother.  That family still has that magic box as well as the now 8 year old boy.  The friend said that she couldn't remember the woman's name.  I said that woman in the picture was Gail.  Isn't it a small world?  Wasn't I right about her being a gem?

She contacted me a day or two ago asking to use a picture of Sam and I in a presentation she is giving about working with families in the medical field.  I found out she retired, which makes me oh so very jealous.  I mentioned a little project that has been weighing heavily on my mind.  She was wonderfully understanding, as always. 

Gail, thanks for your encouragement over the years.  You have touched many lives and every last one of us is more grateful than words could ever express. (By the way, you are number 70 and I ran out of real note cards!)