Chapter 17 - Maisie Thinks Sickness Is Expensive
The emotional damage lasted longer than the hospital stay.
At home, Maisie began hiding symptoms.
Coughing into blankets.
Saying:
“I’m fine.”
One night her oxygen saturation monitor—used temporarily after discharge—showed lower readings.
I asked:
“Do you feel tight?”
“No.”
She clearly did.
Why lie?
“Hospital costs money.”
There.
Dr. Lin warned us.
“When a child believes illness burdens the family, she may minimize symptoms.”
Dangerous.
We changed language.
No:
Expensive medicine.
No:
Another hospital bill.
No joking:
You’re costing me a fortune.
Adults make those jokes.
Children hear literal meaning.
I had done it too.
Years earlier, when inhaler spacer disappeared, I said:
“Those things are fifty bucks, Maisie.”
She remembered.
Great parenting.
I apologized.
“Your medicine costs money. That is an adult responsibility.”
“Even lots?”
“Yes.”
“Even hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Even if Connor?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Can money run out?”
Honest answer.
“Money is not infinite.”
She looked worried.
“But your care does not get decided by whether Grandma thinks someone else deserves it more.”
Better.
The trust’s child-development adviser helped create age-appropriate language.
At five:
Adults have plans to pay for medical care.
At ten:
Insurance and trust basics.
Later:
More detail.
No child should carry actuarial reserves in kindergarten.
Obvious.
May you like
Apparently not to us.
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