Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'healing power of games'.
Found 1 result
Every year a few folks ask me why I'm always all over Extra Life. I mean, besides playing games for 24+ hours in a row. This little essay I penned a few years ago is why. It was a few days after my youngest daughter's 5th surgery at Boston Children's hospital. This April, she'll be going in for (at the same time) her 6th, 7th and 8th surgeries. The Healing Power of Games This is a an essay on gaming. Really it is! But to get to the relevant part, we need to start with some background information. So bear with me and I promise I’ll deliver you safe and sound into a chair, at a table, with a nice, fun game spread out before you.My youngest daughter was born with a unilateral (right) cleft lip. Because of circumstances beyond nearly everyone’s control, she wouldn't be able to get the first of her (so far) four surgeries to correct this cleft until she was nearly two and three quarter years old. As this set back the timetable for all of her surgeries, it wasn't until two weeks ago that she had her fourth of five, possibly six surgeries.As far as her surgeries go, this one wasn’t a biggie. I mean, they were only putting her under for two hours to completely alter the shape of her upper lip and nose. At least, that’s how our surgeon handled it. This is wonderful because he’s the best in the world and to him this was a walk in the park.For us it was a biggie and for her eight-year-old self, it was a stupendously huge deal. The bottom line? She wasn't happy with this, but understood the need and the surgery happened and was quite successful.This left her slightly bewildered parents (trust me, that surgery thing never becomes ‘no biggie’ for anyone but the surgeons) and a very tired little girl at home on a Wednesday evening. All of four hours had passed since she’d woken up and had her first tentative sips of apple juice.“Dad?” she asked.“Yeah hon,” I anxiously replied, expecting a request for some pain medicine, or another ice pack.“Can we play a game?”I told you I’d bring this back around, right? While she was confined to the couch (Doctor's orders) we wrangled up a breakfast tray and my copy of Love Letter (I prefer the factory edition myself) and something pretty amazing happened.I lost, but that’s normal for our gaming relationship, my 8 year old is a shark. The amazing thing was that for the fifteen minutes we played this simple little sixteen card game, pushing a few red cubes around a precariously perched breakfast tray, she forgot she was just hours out of surgery.There was laughter as she got the first three points before I scored even one, and she concentrated on the game and the enjoyment it offered to the point where her mind was off of her face and what had been done to it.Over the next several days, I would see this again and again. Despite being tired to the point of actually forgetting how to spell my three letter first name, we would keep on playing games.The next day it was more simple games. We tackled Zombie Dice (she won 4 of our 6 rounds) more Love Letter (I won 2 of the 3 rounds) and my squirrel game prototype (she kicked my furry little tail all over the board).While sleeping was an issue for her, and she would spend some time zoned out into a movie, her best avenue of escape was gaming. I think she started to realize this as well. Towards the end of any pain medicine cycle, she’d make a point of asking to play a game.There’s something very amazing about the mind’s ability to focus on a task that’s enjoyable and literally exclude the stuff that’s not. How often have you played a game and managed to push off that unpleasant task looming at work? A night’s gaming for me is an escape just as total as a wonderful movie or an enthralling book.On her second full day of recovery, she put her hands on her hips and insisted on something a little stronger than a ten-minute game. She was also at the point in her recover where swelling was going down and noticing the pain was taking a front seat.No one likes to watch their kid suffer through a painful experience, and that kid wasn't to keen on it either. So we distracted each other with Castle Panic and Forbidden Desert.We upped the difficulty on Forbidden Desert for the first time and managed to construct our air ship and get out of that parched landscape just before we ran out of water! Next, we defended our castle as it was besieged by wave after wave of nasty monsters and giant boulders. We managed to pull off another victory, even the at the end we had to sacrifice the Wizard’s tower to do so. That was several hours mixed in with some smaller games as well that passed so quickly for her.It was great to see, greater to be a part of it. It also did amazing things for my peace of mind as well, distracting me just as thoroughly as it distracted her.After that, her body was exhausted and her mind tired from a good mental workout. She did something she hasn't done in years – she took a nap. A lengthy one at that.Consider what happened here – pain medicine would take the edge off but wouldn't make her forget the experience. TV was distracting but that distraction faded fast.Games though, well there was something else entirely going on here. We’d strategize together. She’d laugh over her wins and has begun to take her defeats with grace and good sportsmanship. We’d discuss what happened afterwards and allow the game to make a story that she’d bring up throughout the day. Using her mind to focus on something so completely, she forgot – sometimes literally, entirely forgot what she was going through.Every day since that day has been better for her and today is the day that things start returning to normal. I’m back at work, she’s back at school and life’s going on. No more pain medicine is needed in her case, and when she smiles, she can do so without it turning into a grimace.She did make me promise though that tonight we’d play another game. Who am I to say no?