The ‘Hospital Talk’: 8 Things Every Parent Needs to Know

Podcast episode: https://www.buzzsprout.com/2428362/episodes/18844705

YouTube video: https://youtu.be/HkYbEB2IdKo

I got lots of positive comments on this topic, on the social media of My Kabuki Girl, so I thought I could expand it a little bit, for the podcast and the blog.

So, in case you missed it on socials, here it is for you. I hope it can help!

Personally, as a medical mama, I hate it when kids’ entertainers and educators try to sell to kids the idea that going to the doctor is fun.

It’s not.

You know it, they know it, and especially if you want to be inclusive of the many children who start getting dysregulated even just by the sight of a stethoscope, there is no point in choosing a very old-school narrative aimed at selling to kids the idea that going to the hospital is a nice activity to do, just like making cookies and giving a bath to the doll.

I strongly believe that children are not dumb, they're just young. So yes, you might tailor your language to their age, but you have to be honest.

They know, and they remember, and children like mine start sobbing as soon as they recognise this street that leads to the hospital.

So I will share with you how I approach the “hospital talk” with my child, every time we go to a hospital appointment, hoping this can help you the next time you need to have the same conversation.

1.    Prepare

It's not a nice thing to do to your child, to show up at the hospital without telling them first.

Some people even tell them, “Oh, we are going to the playground”, and then bring them to the hospital; this is horrible. How would you feel if someone promised you that they were bringing you to your favourite place, and instead they brought you to a place you hate?

Would you still trust that person?

What I do instead is notify my daughter the day before, because she deserves the opportunity to mentally prepare for the hospital visit.

2.    Acknowledge

Yes, it sucks. And you know what? Adults don't like to go to the doctor either.

That’s the truth.

I still have to meet a grown-up who’s happy to go to the hospital. Not even doctors like to go to the doctor, so why should we expect our children to?

So, “Yes, tomorrow is not going to be the best of days, I know. I understand your frustration”.

Your child might start crying or complaining, and that’s ok. It’s not a tantrum. They are showing you how they are feeling, and that’s how you would feel too.

3.    Share

“But I will be there with you the whole time. I will share the bad experience with you, possibly to lighten your burden.”

There’s nothing worse than going to a scary place, feeling that we have to be brave at all costs because no one else will be brave for us.

So be that support person for your child. Be the person who will hold their hand the whole time, who will make sure that the visit runs as smoothly and quickly as possible.

You are not just a chaperon. You are their advocate and support person.

4.    Emotional regulation

“I will be there with you, but also for you. Do you feel angry? Do you feel scared here? Do you feel anxious? Tell me about it, and I'm here for you to listen, to take it all in.”

In those moments, you need to compartmentalise your own emotions, sensory regulation and possible traumas, to be there for your child; and, as a neurodivergent mum who has experienced many traumas due to her daughter’s medical journey, I know how hard this is.

You are scared too. You are triggered by those scrubs and syringes too.

But you need to put your child’s regulation and emotions first, as much as you can. The calmer you are, the calmer your child will be.

5.    Set expectations

When you are preparing your child for a hospital visit, try to be clear and explain to your child what to expect. You don’t have to get into details, and you certainly have to tailor your explanation to your child’s age, but it’s very helpful to give them a rough idea of what they can expect.

“No, darling, they’re not going to touch your ears”, I told her the other day, “and no, this time they don’t want to check your heart. This time, they need to take X-rays of your hips, which means they just need to take a picture of your hips. You lie on the bed and stay still for just five seconds, and the machine is just going to take a picture. That’s it. I will touch you, nobody else will touch you”.

(Disclosure: I could promise that to her, because we’ve been doing X-rays of her hips for three years now, so I know exactly how we need to place her legs to get the angles and positions that the orthopaedic doctor wants to see. Please, never promise your child something you cannot guarantee).

6.    Praise

I praise my daughter all the time.

“You are doing great. You’re being strong. This sucks, but you are stronger than this. You are being so brave. I’m proud of you”.

It’s true. These children are amazing.

They are strong, more than what they think. They are brave, resilient, patient. We should acknowledge it.

There are adults who have to go through much less and are being big babies about it, and then you have actual babies, who have to go through so much worse, and yet they are living it with such resilience and kindness.

We owe them some good praise.

7.    Cuddles

Cuddle as much as you can afterwards. Don’t rush back to the car, just hold them and cuddle them, for a few moments.

In silence, give both your hearts the chance to re-regulate, to sync again, to restore the trust and the sense of normality.

Don’t rush this part, neither force it.

8.    Negotiation

I find that this is a tricky aspect of hospital visits and, in general, of tasks that our children don’t want to do.

Personally, I believe that it’s not always beneficial to negotiate things with children in the sense of “You are giving me this, I will give you that”.

I might be very old school, but I don’t like the idea of being held “hostage” of negotiations with my child.

If I say you have to do something, you have to do it, whether you receive a lollipop or a pony in exchange for listening to your parent.

Na-aa. Not happening.

But I make deals with my daughter all the time, in a sense of “We have to do this task. There is not getting out of this. But what I can offer is a deal where, after something you need to do, you can have something you want to do”.

“Need to do versus want to do” is beneficial for two reasons.

The first one is that we are negotiating an activity and not an object.

We are going to get a gelato, or we go on the swing, or we go to the playground.

Activities that don’t cost much, that give her new memories of normality and joy, that regulate her, and that won’t fill my house with tokens that will always remember the many hospital visits we had.

The second benefit of phrasing the deal that way, is that your child will not be able to leverage on the task to twist the conversation into “well, you gave me the doll last time, this time I want the whole dollhouse”.

We need to do something you don’t like, and that’s not negotiable. Life is full of tasks we don’t like.

On the other hand, I can offer to do something you want to do, but that will still have to be within my boundaries.

Do you see the difference?

What I don’t do for our hospital visits is:

a.   Lie

They are going to find out about the hospital appointment eventually, and the visit will be invasive anyway, so lying is pointless and, as we previously saw, would undermine their trust in you.

b.   Act like a cheerleader

No cheerful tones, when your little one is scared or sad. You won’t be able to sell the idea that everything is ok, that it’s not a big deal, and that the hospital is a happy place.

We all know it’s not.

So tune into your kid’s emotions and “read the room”. You can gradually bring them to feel calmer, even to remember that the doctor is there to help and not to hurt. But that’s about it.

c.    No apologising

Yes, during my daughter’s first year, I apologised to her a lot. She was going through literal hell, and I was feeling so guilty I couldn’t give her a better newborn experience.

But now, for routine checkups or regular hospital visits, I don’t apologise.

I understand, I acknowledge, I praise, but I never apologise because they are very important tasks and there’s no need for me to feel guilty about them.

In conclusion, if you are ever in doubt about how to talk about hospitals with your child, remember that kids are not silly, they are not dumb: they are just young, they are just little.

But they see, they understand and they realise way more than what they give away.

So treat them with kindness towards their age, but also with the same respect and dignity you would give to an adult.