Shiane

"She's had a sore throat for quite a few days so I wanted to bring Shiane in to be seen," Shiane's grandmother explains. "We're working on getting her Medi-cal, but it's all been up in the air since her mother left.." her grandmother confesses in follow-up to her chief complaint. "...and we also wanted to discuss her options for counseling," her sentence runs on. 

Ah, the chief complaint turned twenty. Help and concern can't freeze my office clock, but ignoring the problem won't bring time back for Shiane either. Shiane is a sincere, soft-spoken 12 yo girl. She sits obediently on the exam room table, waiting patiently for her grandmother to explain her predicament. Her grandmother explains that Shiane's mom up and left four months ago, so now she lives with her grandmother (actually her step-grandmother, her step-father's mom). 

"Do you know your biological father?" I ask.

"No, I've never met him." she states with out emotion: no resentment, anger or sadness.

I'm saddened to know that yet another child sits without any knowledge of the whereabouts of the man who gave birth to her. I often wonder if the commonness of the problem justifies it being overlooked as a real issue amongst our children. 

In the same day I met Eduardo, a 12 yo boy, whose mother complains of his defiant behavior and rude remarks towards her. I learn quickly that Eduardo is split amongst two homes: his mother's, who has recently reconnected with and extends effort to reach out for her son. The other is his father's, the home he returns to to sleep each night. 

His mother steps out and we talk. I ask about his life at his dad's home.

"He's always out with his girlfriend," he begins to explain.

"Her kids jump on my bed and throw the stuff in my drawers all over my room," he states with resentment. 

"You wish your dad would spend more time with you?" I ask. The tears beat his words to the punch.

Eduardo leaves me wondering, what is the lesser of two evils? A physically present but totally negligent father or no father at all. 

Returning to my interview with Shiane:   

"How do you feel about your mother?" I ask. 

"She and I were best friends before she left," she explains, "Now I keep the blanket she made with me to feel like she's there." 

Once again Shiane's voice is devoid of emotion, especially anger or sadness. Rather I hear a sense of acceptance, permission to allow her mother to be as she may. This is what always hits me the hardest. Children are so forgiving of their parents. They long for a mother and a father to love them, more so, a person for them to cherish and love. 

I am reminded of something Mintee recently told me: "We are all imperfect people." So I remind myself of that with everyone who walks into the office. After all, most of are doing the best we can with what we have. But it is hard not to ask for more sometimes. I just think that every child deserves a mentally, physically and emotionally present father and mother.