Peggy McDaniel, BSN, RN, an occasional contributor to this blog, works as a clinical liaison support manager of infusion, and is currently based in Brisbane, Australia.

Sitting in the dark movie theatre, I hear a familiar high–pitched “beep, beep, beep.” The sound brings me to full attention, away from the action on the big screen and back to my “date,” a blond and very handsome five-year-old boy sitting beside me. I see him mouth the words, “I can’t breathe,” but he makes no sound.

Children at playground, Brisbane, Australia, 1939/Wikimedia Commons

He’s not trying to be quiet for fellow moviegoers—he’s getting no air from his ventilator, as the alarm has indicated. Though his eyes are open wide and his nostrils flared with an oxygen-starved expression, his eyes still hold trust. He knows I can help him breathe, now—quickly, the Ambu bag is in my hand, squeezing breath into his immobile body, as I feel around in the dark for a disconnected vent circuit. (Of course, I had already silenced the alarm as quickly as possible, for the other kids and their parents in the theater during the lightly attended matinee.)

Such adventures out of the children’s hospital were a monthly occurrence. A child life therapist and a nurse would take medically fragile kids out into the community, usually with parents in attendance. These afternoons of fun gave the parents and kids hands-on experience before discharge.

And something […]