Business Matters

When Life Gives You Lemons

By Matthew Weinstock

It is amazing what a 4-and-a-half-year-old can teach us about responding to adversity

My daughter and I were nearing the top of the escalator at the elevated-train station when we heard a blood-curdling scream. I turned to see my 4-and-a-half-year-old son on his knees crying, holding his bloodied right hand. He had tripped and cut it badly on the jagged metal step.

My wife, Geri, who was trailing Frank, sprinted up the escalator, scooped him up in her arms and yelled, "He's going to need stitches."

We rushed down the concrete steps outside the el station. I ripped off my sweater so Geri could wrap it around Frank's hand to contain the bleeding. My wife and son jumped in a cab that was luckily passing by and rushed to Children's Memorial Hospital. We didn't even think about calling an ambulance; we were going on instinct. Besides, an ambulance would likely have taken him to the ED at a nearby acute care hospital. He needed to be at Children's.

The injury was worse than we thought. Frank had severe tendon and nerve damage. He would need surgery, but not that late on a Saturday night. The physicians also wanted to let the swelling go down. He got stitches and was stable enough to go home.

Three days later, Geri and I sat nervously for just over five hours while Frank was in surgery. It is the most harrowing experience we've had as parents.

It took days to get that cry and image out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes, there it was. But what's helped me get past it is Frank. He's taught—no, is teaching—me one of the most valuable lessons of my life. Faced with this adversity, Frank hasn't cried or moaned or whined. He hasn't sought pity or wallowed in his tears. He hasn't played the blame game. Rather, he's confronting the challenge head on. He's retained his classic sense of humor (in pre-op, while decked out in a hospital gown and his Spider-Man underpants, he shook his tushy for the entire nursing station. That earned him a press-on Spidey tattoo from the nurses) and amazingly positive disposition.

With his right hand bandaged in a cast that can best be described as a plaster club, he's adapted and become a lefty. He hasn't missed a beat—eating, writing, drawing, getting dressed, playing—all with his left hand. He even built an apatosaurus (for you dinosaur novices, that's a long-necked plant eater) out of Legos.

Sure, he's gotten frustrated, but he's taking everything in stride. "It's OK, Daddy, I know my hand is going to get stronger when the cast comes off and we do my exercises," he says. And, "I think I'm just going to become left-handed." (The baseball fan in me is already fantasizing about his Wrigley Field debut.)

His attitude astounds me. Too often we adults get hung up on the "woe is me" factor. We waste energy fretting about … well, everything. To be sure, our professional lives are filled with challenges, some self-made, others that are out of our control. But what sets you apart as a leader is how you respond to that adversity. Do you complain and look for scapegoats, or, as Frank has done, do you adapt and inspire?

This article 1st appeared in the May 2010 issue of HHN Magazine.

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