craniofacial

At the tail end of a four-day trauma-informed ‘Train the Trainer’, I stopped to contemplate and reflect on my biggest trauma response trigger, Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin in Milwaukee. In the flood of Milwaukee’s afternoon traffic, I ventured into the now conglomerate of an area that has sprung up incorporating Froedert Hospital and the Milwaukee Mental Health Hospital.

Initially I was nervous that someone was going to catch my uneasiness from the anxiety and trauma triggers. I’ve lived enough years to figure out how to settle myself enough to continue functioning physically in spite of a mental fog. I do not go all to pieces mostly due to the human connections in my life that were barriers (resilience) to even more detrimental effects.

Assisting my ability to remain calm was that nothing visually is the same as is burned into my memories of childhood except for the logo of two blue children. In fact, I began writing this article in the hospital lobby, sitting at a table next to Cafe West. Quite possibly I might have also been in the wrong building, as there are two structures with the same name and the same logo with Froedert being between them. I am not sure, but I’m pretty sure I was one of the few adults who continued to have surgeries at Children’s due to their ICU capabilities.

It has been too many years to remember everything about this place and yet not too long to erase the seared in memories of everyday appointments for so many years and countless surgeries. When I was a kid, we would get ice cream from the cafe in this lobby as a reward for handling another day of appointments or procedures. Gone is the archway of white toy blocks that I used to refer to as the ‘Archway to Hell’. The efforts of appealing to children was something that used to strike a negative chord with me, like the hospital was trying to hide their true purpose.

In college, I took Environmental Psychology and love it, so I have a different appreciation for safe, inviting spaces. What really helps being back in this environment is that I have the emotional maturity to know that the past cannot come back to harm me. The men who operated on me, lied to me, never explained things to me or forced the gas mask on my face are either retired or are long since deceased.

Intellectually, I have nothing to blame on this place or the people that work here. I was but a child caught up in the trials and errors of advancing techniques to better assist kids and families dealing with craniofacial differences. Combine that with an age where kids with disabilities were still being institutionalized and separated from family and community. My parents refused to institutionalize me or put me in special education. I think about whether the idea of complex medical trauma was around in the late 80’s and early 90’s. But then I think about my parents who saw it and made changes to assist in buffering the practices and recommendations of medical professionals.

At home, I had a normal life or what I saw as a normal life with the ability to do normal things. In the hospital, the outside world was seen as an ever-present danger. Two parents taking a child to appointments every day started leading to isolation, so it became a good cop bad cop situation. When my parents took me out of the team environment of the craniofacial team at Children’s Hospital, I stopped simply surviving and started thriving.

Unfortunately, I have seen the present day outcome of other kids I once knew who were not so lucky in that all encompassing realm. Ultimately, I believe that an external surgeon gave me back power and control over my own body and my existence. I didn’t have to suffer through things without being told what was happening to me. This is where I believe my indifference to self-torture began. In so many instances, I had to give up control and disassociate in order to deal. So I became a social worker to advocate for children that didn’t have the ability to communicate their needs in similar atmospheres.

I’ve never been negatively vocal about Children’s Hospital, and I don’t intend to do so in the future. I just choose not to contribute any of my resources to the charity aspect of an organization that attempted multiple times in court to take my parents’ house away to pay for medical bills. I still get triggered, unfortunately most often due to radio ads for the hospital’s foster care services. Being involved professionally in social services, I get triggered more often.

I still have night terrors and I still go back and relive moments that shouldn’t have happened. These days, I am able to deal with what comes from exposure or response in the moment. I hope I can be a beacon of hope for others who have experienced trauma. I still hold on to a lot of anger and it used to fuel my drive to succeed. I don’t know if I will ever get rid of the anger, nor do I know if I want to release it. I’ve become so used to anger leading to passion and then action.