A Dr. Red Nose’s Diary – I Am a Father and a Clown——Because of Him, I Became a Dr. Red Nose
Like many of my fellow performers, I am often asked this question:
“Why did you want to become a Dr. Red Nose?”
Usually, my answer is simple and direct: “Because I have a child.”
Although it may seem like a simple answer, there are actually many layers behind it.
Becoming a Father
I dreamed of becoming a performer, hoping to stand onstage and in front of the camera, attempting to create “something” with my voice and body. At first, becoming a Dr. Red Nose was not part of my imagination. I was not especially fond of children, but I did not dislike them either. I could not say that I was particularly good with children, but I seemed to have enough patience and a few tricks to handle them.
In short, my attitude toward children remained moderately “fine” and “anything goes”—until I had a child of my own.
At first, I also went through a period of struggle, torn between “spending time with my child” and “doing the things I wanted to do.” I wanted to put more thought into sharing household chores, caring for the baby, and accompanying my partner, yet I also hoped to keep moving toward my goals. When I buried myself in my own work, feelings of guilt would arise; when I stopped to look at the backs of my fellow performers, I felt unwilling to fall behind. With both ends of the candle burning and these two emotions intertwined… it affected me, my partner, and my child.
In the end, I decided to let go. I decided to spend more time pursuing my goals without being anxious about my present, and to spend more time watching my child and cherishing his present.
Becoming a Dr. Red Nose
Then one day, my child was hospitalized with Kawasaki disease.
He was two years old that year. He was hospitalized in time because of a high fever that would not subside. From the initial uncertainty about the cause through treatment and recovery, we stayed in the hospital for 10 days. It was neither a long nor a short time, yet it left us with many feelings. Besides my own child’s fever rising and falling, the two-year-old most often expressed and vented his discomfort through crying. The older children in the other beds who were able to express themselves did the same.
Illness troubled the children, while anxiety invaded us adults—the uncomfortable children, the aching backs from sleeping on the accompanying family beds, the poor sleep quality from being awakened at any moment, and the physical and emotional strain of juggling work and caregiving… I could hear all these emotions through the curtains: a father angrily scolding his child for fear that the child’s crying would disturb others, and a mother repeatedly pressing the emergency button because she felt her child was not receiving proper care.
My partner and I chose instead to drink cup after cup of coffee in the stillness of the night, watching and wondering about the medical and nursing staff who protected us at the center of this low-pressure system. They faced illness and anxious parents like us with professionalism, composure, and patience—but what was going on in their hearts?
I am a performer. Heaven gave me a little bit of talent, allowing me to bring about small changes in my audience’s emotions—perhaps moving them, perhaps making them laugh. I am a father. My child awakened in me a love for children and empathy for parents, allowing me to come closer to their hearts.
I began to have this thought: “If I have this ability, I want to become a Dr. Red Nose.”
Now, I have become a Dr. Red Nose. In hospitals, we accompany children with all kinds of imagination, games, play, and performance skills, interacting and connecting with the people there. At home, I am a father. I must admit that sometimes I just want to be a couch potato, sleep in on a day off, or use the television as a babysitter. However, more often, I still choose to play superheroes fighting monsters with him, build secret bases out of foam mats, or play the classic game of hide-and-seek.
Because there is always a thought: “I play with other people’s children in the hospital, so how could I not play with him at home?” This should count as an occupational side effect, right? But it is a good side effect. Although I feel tired, throughout the time we spend together, I feel that I am the one who benefits more.
Perhaps it is because I watch him enjoy simple games, feel proud of small improvements, and take seriously his wild, even illogical imagination. It makes me recall those simple joys and helps me understand children a little better!
All of this allows me to wear my red nose with confidence and become a Dr. Red Nose.
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Written by: Yeh Wei-Chih (Dragonfly)