Roberta Gosier

Three Generations of Patients

I had three boys and a girl who, as the youngest, was a bit of a tomboy, probably out of self-defense!  While they were growing up, we were always making a trip to Holy Cross Hospital’s ER for one reason or another. Usually, the injuries weren’t particularly serious—falls from a fence or jungle gym, bad bumps and sprains, a few broken bones.

But in the late 80s, my son Phil, then a teenager, really gave me a scare. We had a shower with a glass door and somehow he fell into it, breaking the glass and severely cutting his arm.  I nearly passed out at the sight.

Holy Cross fixed him up beautifully, but the damage was major enough to call for an overnight stay. To this day, Phil has a humongous scar on his arm, but luckily suffered no damage to his muscles or nerves.  Good thing, since he’s a professional artist!

More recently, my oldest son, Chris, and his young family were spending Thanksgiving with us from their home in Brooklyn, New York.  Their two-year-old, Sebastian, spiked a really high fever—106°—so we rushed him to Holy Cross.

Well, Sebastian wanted none of it, and kept telling all the nurses and doctors, ‘I’m all better now. I wanna go home.’ The staff, meanwhile, was wonderful, so kind, as they worked to get his temperature down so they could, indeed, comply with his wishes.