A Mommy Who Took Good Care

In another twist of fate, one of my new friends in the Masters at Law program is a great and gentle guy called Frank Gomberg. As we conversed, I learned that Frank was a friend of my colleague at law school, Sharon Shore. I, of course, knew Sharon’s tragic story about her daughter Lisa and had read her touching and yet scary book on the events that led to Lisa’s death at ten years of age. Frank offered to give me another copy of the book so I could read it again.

And so, I read “No Moral Conscience” again. I read it over two days as I subwayed downtown and home for this week’s classes. I wonder what the other subway travellers thought when they saw tears streaming down my face as I read Lisa’s father, Bill’s, poignant eulogy of his only girl!

I sent Sharon an e-mail after I finished the book and it reflects what you too would feel if you hear the story:

I wanted to tell you that I hold you and Bill in the highest estimation for all you went through at getting at the truth for Lisa and what happened to lead to her death. I cannot imagine the pain that you felt each and every moment during that journey; but as a mother I would hope I would have the same strength, persistence, and fortitude to face up to the incredible obstacles that you had to overcome. As I was reading the book and thinking about the years of fighting for Lisa and the years of having to overcome the vengeance of the guilty (eg your delayed call because of the "good character" hearing), I couldn't help but think that you were continuing to live the penultimate compliment that Lisa gave you on the last night of her life -- 'You take such good care of me, Mommy'. You did, you continued to do so in her memory, and you do that today. One cannot hope for a better Mommy.

Thank you for sharing your story with me through your book.

It is tragic that Sick Kids failed Lisa and her family, through the admitted negligence of the nurses. I had held Sick Kids in the highest regard because they actually saved my little sister from the negligence of the then Branson Hospital. Branson was giving my sister medication that was actually making her worse and, hours away from death, a nurse friend of my mother’s intervened and got Valerie transferred to Sick Kids. The doctors at Sick Kids diagnosed the problem immediately and corrected the killer medication with antidotes. Had they not done that, as we were told back then by my Mom, Valerie would have surely died at Branson.

And yet, here is the same situation but Sick Kids is now the negligent party. It takes away my wholesale esteem of Sick Kids, but more importantly it reminds me that the care you receive is wholly dependent on the human beings who are dispensing that care.

I plan to take that lesson forward in my life. We have to be especially vigilant and diligent in questioning medical care issues.

But most of all, we have to take “such good care” of our family and friends. We owe it to Lisa. If her death taught us anything, it should teach us that.

I was telling a friend the other day about a wonderful passage from "Have a Little Faith" by Mitch Albom where the characters are talking about the worst part of dying. Beyond knowing what lies beyond this life, one of the most tangible fears is the fear of being forgotten.

Lisa, your mommy who always takes "good care" of you has made sure that you will never be forgotten.