FknBucky

What a cross looks like to some people.

Spending time with those kids became my escape for the week. One I always looked forward to without fail. I am a T-4 paraplegic (paralyzed from the chest down) and love spending time with young people. These kids just happen to have had life altering illnesses or accidents. Despite the adult sized problems they faced, these children just needed someone to pay attention to them and make them laugh.

I enabled people in my professional and personal life to see past the wheelchair by showing them the person I am instead of letting them concentrate on the hardware I use. This allowed me to quickly see past any problems those kids had. Opening the large security door I saw a girl standing near the back of the room working on something. After volunteering for two years, this was the first time a patient was in the playroom when I arrived, this told me instantly her situation was special.

The machines are what stood out to most people at first glance. A tall white pole with hooks at the top and four small black wheels on the bottom for balance. Two different IV bags hanging from the top with tubes running into the tiny frail arm that had yet to experience so much in life. The beeping from the blue box shaped monitor that kept track of her vitals like heart rate, blood pressure, and whatever else the nurses needed to know at a moments notice. It was a modern day cross this child had to drag around as a constant reminder that she was not well.

The girl wore Spongebob Square Pants pajama bottoms with a hospital gown covering her top. From the side I could see where the gown was tied in the back exposing bits of skin to the chilly air of the hospital. The air conditioner seemed to never take a break in this Southern California environment. A pink bandana on her head seemed to be decorated with Hello Kitty, but I wasn’t positive and truthfully didn’t care. To know for sure meant I would have had to stare and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Tied on like a Harley Davidson biker would have worn it, this one covered her balding head that had lost most its hair from months of painful treatments. Plain slippers covered her feet that stood next to the black wheels of that damn IV pole that was never more than inches away.

I wasted no time and went straight up to her. Looking at the table before her, I saw a large piece of red construction paper, about three feet by three feet with what looked to be random pictures strewn about it. I said “How’s your day gorgeous?” A shy girl, beaten down by life and sickness, about twelve years old, struggled to get out the word okay while never taking her dark sad eyes off that table and those pictures. The child life specialist next to her gave me an awkward smile, but I would not be shut out. I came to this children’s hospital every week to make sure these kids could check out for a couple hours, laugh at the crazy guy in a wheelchair, and even if for a brief moment, truly forget the life and death struggle they faced on a daily basis.

I inquired. “Who are the pictures of??
“My brother and me” she replied in a barely audible voice.
“Those are great pictures. Are you at Disneyland??”
“Yes”
“Whom are you making this for??”
“My parents”

I knew I had to work harder to infect her with what I was carrying. I am contagious and giving up was not an option. I rolled closer to her, smiling the whole time, knowing that the positivity and happiness overflowing out of me was exactly what she needed.

“I’m a good looking guy, do you think I could get a couple pictures of me in your collage?” I asked.
She looked up for the first time and looked into my eyes. She saw me looking at her. Not at the machines, her sickness, or her situation, but simply looking at her and cracked a small smile while saying “Maybe.”

She could sense I was being genuine, slowly started to open up, and we began a real conversation about anything other than why she was in the hospital. I asked about this picture and that one pointing to them and waiting to hear the story behind it. Within minutes those sad eyes opened up, showing signs of life and happiness, and soon, filled with the positivity I had shared with her.
“What was going on in this picture?” I would ask.
“We had just rode that rollercoaster and my brother was dizzy so I was laughing at him. He was such a wimp when it came to the fast rides.” She told me.

She would pause from time to time, reliving the moment in her mind, before continuing to tell each story. The ice cream break when she got chocolate and her brother got vanilla, the sandwiches for lunch in the parking lot, and the constant begging for her brother to go just one more time on the rides that he didn’t like so much, but ended up going on anyway to please a younger sister.

The wall she put up to guard herself crumbled. She felt like a normal kid again, forgot about the situation she was in, and let go of the cross she was holding. The machines melted away, the lack of hair no longer mattered, and standing in front of me was a girl. A beautiful girl with sparkling eyes, memories to share, and the courage to ask the obvious question.

“What makes you think you are so good looking??” She asked.
“I um… well I…” For a quick-witted guy I had no words. She got me good there and we both busted out in laughter.

The whole hospital world was gone in an instant while we played with those pictures and told funny stories. It only lasted for about fifteen minutes, but it is a memory that will never leave me.

As the young lady left to have dinner the child life specialist told me it was the first time she had seen her have a genuine smile and truly laugh in months. The brother in the photos had passed away four months earlier of the same disease she has. My heart broke in two. I’m glad I didn’t know sooner. Everyone that looked at this broken hurting body saw this horrible situation instead of a beautiful child that just needed to laugh. It is one of the happiest memories I have spending with another human being.