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These words were overheard just before Christmas, 1990,
at Pheasant Lane Mall, Nashua, NH (a true story)
"Mummy, why is that man standing next to that pot and ringing
a bell?"
"He's collecting money for people who are hungry, who don't have
a warm coat to wear, maybe don't even have a home to sleep in."
"There are people who don't have a warm coat? It's really cold
out tonight!"
"Tim, not everyone is as lucky as we are. We have family and
friends who love us, and we love them. We have a lovely, warm
house. We have plenty to eat, and we have strong, healthy bodies.
Would you like to put a dollar in the pot to help someone else?"
"Mummy, we have so much, I think we should give more than a dollar."
"Tim you are right. Let's give more."
"Mummy, are we rich?"
"Timmo, anyone with a boy like you is rich indeed. Come give me
a hug!"
(ed. note -- these are the real words of my Tim at age 5.
Bless his heart.)
Sign me,
The rich Prancin' Pam
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| When my neice, Juli, was 3 we discovered that her logic sure beat her
mother and grandmother. For example, "Grammy, are you going to
Bingo tonight?" My Mom replied "No.". Juli countered with "Grammy,
are you going to be home tonight?" Again, in all innocence, replied
"No." Juli then said, "Good, then I can spend the night.". Once,
again, my Mom was set up.
My sister, Juli's Mom, and my Mom fell for this sort of set-up
time and time again because they never new where innocent questions
were going to lead.
When Loretta and I were younger (MUCH younger), Loretta's favorite
expression was "If my eyes were bigger, I could see farther." I'm
still not sure what she meant by that.
Linda
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Stories From A Children's
Hospital
by
John Heffernan
Copyright �1991 John Heffernan
In every room I peek into there is a story and there is also a story
waiting to happen. Which one will I hear tonight; which one will I
be in tonight; which one will I create tonight? And which ones will
I retell and which ones will be retold by others. I know that my own
character will not be the same in the story I retell and the story
others retell from their point of view. Sometimes when I go into the
hospital after working at my office job, I roam around peeking in
rooms but go in none not feeling strong enough to be part of anyone's
story. A lot of my life is like this.
One such night, I was passing through the neurology ward where you
can't be quite sure what the abilities of the kids will be. I
passed a young black girl with a shaved head with a large bandage on
it sitting in a wheelchair out in the hall. Sometimes the nurses put
kids out in the hall as if to water them and let them grow. I pass
by and I feel unsure of what to do. Maybe I shouldn't bother. But
she smiles as I go by and I say hello. I get no answer to my usual
hello's and questions so I pull out some bubbles. Bubbles are the
last resort in my volunteer's bag of tricks. In case of emergency,
blow bubbles. So I do. The colorful Pustfix bubbles float upward and
this young girl smiles a smile that is the whole universe in its
grandeur. She can not speak to me; I know that by now but we speak
deeply in the language of smiles and bubbles. It is curious how
these stories and rooms that I want to run from the most sometimes
turn out the best stories.
One time as I went wandering around the orthopedic ward in some kind
of daze, I walked by a room with a girl sitting in a wheelchair. She
did not look quite right; she was drooling and her eyes did not focus
in front of her. I walked by her room two or three times wondering
if I should go in. No, she's retarded I thought. What can I do?
But she looked very bored and I eventually went in. Now I wonder what
she might have thought of me - wandering around lost and indecisive
in front of her temporary place of residence.
I say hello but I hear nothing in return. I am wearing red converse
high tops with neon green shoelaces and I'm carrying a bag of toys
and tricks. I pull out three fire engine red juggling balls and
smile a big smile and start juggling for her. It helps to wear these
red sneakers with the neon green shoelaces. I can dig out a real
smile just by looking down at my shoes as if remembering a line in a
play. Soon I drop the ball and pretend to be mad at the ball and
clown all my movements. Well she thinks this is the funniest thing
that she has ever seen. You don't hear a laugh like too often and
never from adults. It is the pure laugh of being silly, a laugh from
the soul and heart. I start laughing too. For some reason, I also
think that this is about the funniest sight I have ever seen. A
so-called retarded girl in hysterics over a awkward and apprehensive
juggler. Soon my awkwardness is gone except in an outer parody of
myself.
We continue for about five minutes. Every trick I did brought on a
new round of hysterics. She was the best audience I ever had.
Pretty soon the nurses started to come in to wonder what was going
on. Just juggling I said. "Well she sure likes you" one nurse
said. I found out later that this girl had been pretty much sitting
in her chair staring into space all day. No one knew where she was.
Later other kids started to come into the room and I was teaching them
to juggle which my friend in the wheelchair thought was really funny.
She had quite a bit of company after a while. We never spoke one
word to each other. Last week performing at a birthday party I was
juggling and this kid keep repeating over and over "That's so simple.
That's so easy" in a very loud and direct voice. It sure is nice to
have an audience that appreciates you. I thank that girl for the
gift she gave me.
I often wonder if that story had never been created how the world
would be different. I wonder how many stories remain untold because
of my fear. I wonder what would happen if we all lost our fear. One
never know what can happen walking into these rooms. Many times
things don't quite work and I just leave. I try not to force the
situation in what I would call success. Soon after I started to
volunteer I got a request to play with a three year girl who had come
from Cambodia for treatment and had no translator at the moment. I
went up with my usual bag of tricks and tried juggling, magic, and
finally bubbles. By this time I thought I was rather clever and
talented what with my juggling and bag of tricks and all. Boy would
I show those nurses how my juggling could take care of any situation!
So she just kept on screaming at the top of her lungs the whole time.
Finally a nurse came in and smiled kind of a tired smile to me and
took her back out to the nurses station. So sometimes it doesn't go
as well as I might have liked. I'm glad I didn't meet that
Cambodian girl on my first night there. I thank that little girl for
the gift she gave me.
I have gotten to know one specific ward for school-age children with
non- surgical cases. They call it a medical ward as opposed to a
surgical ward. I see a lot kids coming back there with cystic
fibrosis. They are the greatest kids and I look forward to seeing
them again even though it would be better if they did not have to
come back. One night I was singing and playing guitar with a group of
kids and their families. I actually got a couple of kids to pause
the Nintendo which believe me is a rather big accomplishment these
days. We are in the play room which in the official language of the
hospital is called the activity room. I like play room better so
that's what I call it.
Well, we are singing and having a good time and I see a familiar face
out in the hall on a small human being about three feet high. It's
Heather and she wants to come in. But she can't for some reason so I
wave to her I tell her I'll be in in a minute. She can't come in
because she has been exposed to chicken pox and has her own room with
"PRECAUTIONS FOR CHICKEN POX" sign on the door. I can't place her
exactly yet but I finally remember her name and place her in a story
a few weeks ago.
We were sitting in the play room singing songs and throwing balls around and I
am singing.
"You gotta sing when the spirit say sing.
You gotta sing when the spirit says sing.
When the spirit says sing you gotta sing right along.
You gotta sing when the spirit says sing."
So I ask Heather and some other real rowdy but lively kids from the
inner city what else you can have fun doing and we make up some new
lyrics.
"You gotta pee when the spirit says pee.
You gotta pee when the spirit says pee.
When the spirit says pee you gotta pee really bad.
You gotta pee when the spirit says pee."
We do eat - eat like a pig and we all make pig snorting noises which
we all get a big kick out of. Then we do drive and I sing, "When the
spirit says drive you gotta drive like a maniac." At which point I
lift up my feet and grab onto a pretend steering wheel and make crazy
person faces. We all get a big kick out of that especially Heather.
Luckily there are no parents or nurses around to see me corrupting
their kids. "What next", I say. At which point for the next eleven
verses Heather yells out "drive" squealing in delight each and every
time.
We play Connect Four which she loves. She's pretty good but I beat
her sometimes and she doesn't like it too much. "How about if we
call it a tie?", she says when I win. OK, I say. When she wins,
she wins. No tie there, no sir!
So it was good to see her again. I had the chicken pox already so I
march right in. Heather is wired so her mother gets out of the room as
soon as she can to get some space and have a cigarette. It nice when
the mothers see you there and trust you enough to take off. I always
feel more responsible after leave. So we had a good time again. She
gave me some gum and told me she was planning to stay up all night
since this was the last night she would not have an IV in her arm for
a while. She starts crawling on me which I like but I always wonder
if it's OK and what the hospital policy is. But I figure its
probably good for both of us when it happens as long as they're young
enough.
Heather is a laugh a minute and she wants to switch to some other
activity about every thirty seconds or so but we have some fun before
her mother rejoins us and I make the long drive back home. My
thoughts return to Heather driving the boring highway back home that I
have driven so many time before. Its a nice feeling just gently
returning to our time together. Whenever I sing the drive lyrics now,
I can't help but smile the smile that Heather showed me for those
lyrics.
One day after my monthly show, a little girl comes up to the stage
where I am hanging out with some kids after the show. This was the
first solo show I have done and I'm not sure it went that well. I
thought I felt a lack of energy when I was singing songs and wasn't
sure how that part went over. It was the first time I sang in public.
Well, she has very short hair (like a crew cut) and a white beret on
her head. Her eyes stick way out and you can kinda see through them
if the light hits them right. Her name is Julie and she wants to
sing when she opens and sees my book of songs. So we sing some
songs. I am somewhat surprised to hear her ask for more songs as she
leafs through the books asking me which ones I know. She puts the
song book where both of us can see it and reads along to the lyrics.
She reads so well, I assume she in in third of fourth grade. Her
mother later shows me an article on her that was in the paper and how
she is fighting a rare blood disease. She comes from the cancer ward
where all the kids have no or very little hair. We had a lot of fun
singing and I tell her hope to see her again.
I see Julie a few later after someone else's show and I say hi and
tell her I'll try and get up to her room next week and bring my
guitar. Somehow I don't get around to it and I see her and her
mother down near the lobby near the frog pond where people throw
pennies in. I'll thrown quite a few in myself usually hoping for
someone special to get better. Well I don't have my guitar but I
promised to sing her a song so I sing "Mail Myself To You" by Woody
Guthrie and "I Love Sandwiches" by Barry Polestar. They are both
silly songs and I get a smile out of her. I continue you my way out
feeling that something may have happened. As I turn back I smile and
see Julie looking at me and smiling the same smile I am smiling at
her. There is some kind of understanding there that I can't quite
describe. Her mother had told me that she had been out for a few
days and was groggy. I make sure to get her room next week. When I
am driving home I reflect on the fact that she has, by her
appreciation, told me to continue singing and playing guitar despite
my lack of self-confidence.
Julie is kind of quiet when you first meet her and I'm not sure if
she remembers me. But I show up in her room and ask her if she wants
to see juggling and some magic. That goes pretty well and her mother
gets a chance to take a break. So I bring out my guitar and we start
going through my kid's sing along books. She helps me out by holding
the book up for me and reading along with the lyrics. I am
interested in the way she found a way to help me out and also involve
herself at the same time.
A t the beginning of the night, she is sitting way up at the head of
the bed while I am sitting at the foot of the bed. When her mother
comes back, Julie is sitting in my lap and we are singing together.
I have a nice time and we joke around and talk. She lets me in a few
of the medical things going on with her and her friends on the floor.
She has given Tim half of a charm necklace. She keep the other half.
True love at age six!
I ask her if she wants to be in my show next week to help me tell a
story and of course she does. The next week I do my show and
Julie is nowhere to be seen so I get a little worried about her. I
overhear a woman who is with her soon with the short hair from the
chemo ward and they say she is sick. This woman comes up to me after
the show and says that Karen and Julie would like it if I can come
up after the show. So I do. I love going up after the show anyway
because after the show I am a celebrity of sorts. Luckily the nurses
where I usually go know me and don't freak out to see man in a jester
hat, a tie-dye t-shirt with red suspenders, red "Cons" with green
shoelaces, a guitar and two cloth shopping bags full of stuff walking
around their ward - their "office". The door to Julie's room is
closed and I'm not even sure if I should go in. But Karen spots me
and talks to me outside the room.
"Julie got a serious infection and is one step away from the ICU.
I'll be happy if you can get one smile outta her. Just to warn you,
probably five minutes is all she can take."
Well, it sounds serious but I'll willing to give it a shot. So I walk
in and exchange the usual pleasantries and ask her if she wants to
see some magic. I have yet to encounter anyone that said no to this
question but I always ask to build up the anticipation a bit. I do
some tricks (a few of which I teach to her) and she sits up in the
bed and is smiling for the first time all day. We sing a few of our
favorite songs and a have a pretty good time. I can tell she's in
some pain though and a little out of it from the drugs they are
giving her. Finally she gets tired and just asks me to read to her
from Shel Silverstein which it turns out is one of her favorite books.
So I get up close to her in her giant hospital bed and read to her.
She has five IV bags on her IV pole. This is the most I've ever
seen. I end staying for about an hour and Karen is quite happy and
tells me I did a lot more for her than all the doctors did that day.
That feels good but also feels like a lot of responsibility I'm not
sure I had before.
Later I go down to my usual floor and wander around. I see a very
thin and somewhat sad and shy boy named WIll. With Will I am never
quite sure at first if he wants me around. But I stick with him for
a while and sing and we play cards. Will keeps changing the rules
and/or selectively forgetting them but we play for a while. Later he
shows me his Waldo books and he brings all these cardboard Waldo
cutouts onto his bed. We play a game where we travel through a
jungle and swamps and mountains to find Waldo. At every stop, Will
explains some interesting fact about the place such as what kind of
dinosaurs live there and whether they are good dinosaurs or bad
dinosaurs. His nurse has to give him some pills so I leave for a
while since he is putting up a gigantic fuss about his medication.
His nurse explains to him in that certain tone of voice (which she
has used millions of time before which is a strange mixture of
patience, love, annoyance, compassion, and duty) that he needs to take
this medicine so he'll get better. After their struggle I come back
in and he says, " You're better than for me that the medicine, aren't
you John.?" Well I mumble something and eventually take my leave
wanting to take him home with me.
I really wonder about the two statements, one from a child and one
from a mother about the effect of my "work" or should I say "play"
there. For the first time, I feel deep down some real role in the
healing process which probably never will be studied at Harvard
Medical School where these doctors study. I worry about Will being so
thin and quiet and in his own world and I worry about Julie who is
so sick and may have to go to the ICU the next day. For the first
time I have managed to get myself attached. I make her a card and on
it I put a poem I make up about us singing together and getting the
whole hospital singing and draw a picture of me on it with stamps on
my head (which is a line from "Mail Myself To You" the first song we
ever sang together.
Julie is much better the next week and I am very relieved. She is
in a lot of pain from the needles in her arms and chest. The nurse
asks if she wants some pain medicine and Julie negotiates with the
nurse which kind and how much. "Only 100 milligrams, I don't want
to get too sleepy." Its funny to see a six year old kid so familiar
with drugs and medical technology. By now, she's been in the
hospital for two months straight.
When they're getting ready to leave when she is in remission a few
weeks later, I wonder what to do. Should I keep in touch and ask for
their number? Patients have certain privacy rights under state law.
I remember my training class. Don't get too attached. Forget that,
its too late anyway. Karen asks for my number relieving me of my
little moral dilemma.
I take them to the circus and we have a good time. Julie jumps into
my lap for the second half. I can't think of a better honor. I feel
needed and loved. Her fuzzy hair feels good under my chin. I tell
her she makes a great chin rest. She and her mother talk about her
wanting to be a scientist when she grows up. I say I want to be an
elephant when I grow up. She changes her mind from scientist to cat.
When I call some time later, I feel funny talking to a six year old
over the phone. Our conversation wanders but its fun after I stop
try to direct it and say only important things. She tells me that
they could really use a "fire distinguisher" and that she is worried
about the house catching on fire. She starts laughing hysterically.
When I ask why, she says her three year old cousin Daniel got out of
the bath naked and "He's turning his penis inside out."
You know its funny how you don't know if I'm doing any good sometimes
and how you have to wait to find out. I remember one time when I
filled a Nintendo request in the ICU. Now I had never been to the
ICU before because you don't get many requests up there. Most of the
patients are unconscious. But one day I got a request to go up
there. I felt pretty tentative going up there and I had to find the
place and everything. A family was leaving and they were all crying
and holding each other. The ICU is all open with no rooms and each
bed had a dazzling array of technological equipment and there is a
nurse for every bed or two. I go up there and meet a young black
boy who is alone looking depressed and breathing oxygen from a mask.
I have a hard time understanding him when he speaks with the mask on
and all and he's having a lot of trouble breathing. So we play some
Nintendo for a while and then I show him some juggling and give him
a ball to play with. I awkwardly go through every magic trick, toy,
balls in my pack and he's saying hardly anything to me at all. So I
figure I did my best but that it doesn't always happen. My attempts
at conversion seem to fall flat. But I stay there just being with
him until its time to leave. And as I say good night , I hear the
first clear sentence from him the whole night as he asks me if I am
coming back tomorrow. I come in once a week and the next week he's
not there in the ICU. I wonder if he made it or not. His story may
have been a short one.
One time I go into a room and I see a boy and a girl who look a lot
alike and seem to be the same age. They are both blond, golden, and
perfect looking. I find out later their names are Julie and Jim,
they are in second grade, and they are twins. Their mother comes in.
She looks a lot like them. After playing with the kids for a while
and having a good time, I talk to their mother. I can tell she likes
me. It's interesting how just been a volunteer really impresses some
people. I don't impress my own self too much just by being there
since its so much fun I figure I'm there too have fun for me (and the
kids too I guess). You see mostly women in the hospital. All the
nurses seem to be women, the doctors you don't see too much and most
of the parents are women. One man really stands out in my mind
though who had a boy named Sam there who had a broken femur and was
there in traction for six weeks. Every night , this guy would come
in after work and stay with his son and sleep there. I liked him too
because he wanted to try and juggle and wanted to try all my toys too.
But most of the time it is the mother there with her kid.
Sometimes I notice myself trying to impress the mother or the nurse if
I like her or think her attractive. Its interesting to see how
self-centered helping can be sometimes. Anyway, I notice myself
liking Jessica's and Jim's mother and thinking she was attractive
and all. Well, she's married so I didn't do or say anything but it
was fun to see her when she was around. Their father would call
sometimes when I was in the room. One time her mother said too me
that I had never met her husband and I said nope. And Julie says,
"Yeah, but you wouldn't want Dad here when you're busy flirting with
John." Its both interesting and annoying how much kids see. We don't
think they see these things. I thought it was funny and laughed it
off. They were fun kids. We would play cards, shot nerf hoops in
their room. All of knew some magic we showed to each other. I felt
bad for Jim because he was always in worse shape than Julie and
had trouble breathing. I figured them for cystic fibrosis which is a
tough one because there's no cure and folks with the disease are
lucky if they make it into their twenties.
Usually I don't get too sad when I see sick kids but it is hard to see
cystic fibrosis kids because you know there just not going to be
around for a long time. I think these kids are really special
though, most of them. They seem different than other kids, more
wise.
Amy is on the same floor as Julie and Jim and she has been at
the hospital for a six weeks. She is not very shy and I hear all
the gruesome details of her stomach and intestine surgery in about
the first five minutes I am there. She is very up and bright and I
know I'm in for a good time. She's in four grade, short blond hair
and thin. She's hasn't eaten normally for quite some time and has
had no solid food for days. She's spending a lot of time deciding
what the best thing to have for breakfast will be tomorrow when she
can eat solid food. She likes my juggling and I try and teach her
how. As usual, the IV lines are problematic for juggling. Her father
comes back and seems relieved to have some relief so I stay all night
and hang out. He later turns on the Red Sox and later we watch a
funny movie on TV. They are from a small town in Maine and he is a
typical devoted and emotional Maine Red Sox fan. Now Amy can
talk and she tells me a long story about her five year brother who is
in love with an older woman who is twenty one. The woman is getting
married and her brother is planning on beating up the groom even
though he's been invited to be the "ring barrier" at the wedding.
Amy seem pretty amused about the whole situation.
Neither me nor her father correct the ring barrier phrase. I guess we
like it better. We sing Puff the Magic Dragon and she says she
always wants to say "In a land called Hawaii" instead of Hanalee so
we sing the lyrics with Hawaii instead which she gets a kick out of.
She does mention that she fights a lot with an older brother and I
relate how my sister and I used to fight all the time and we actually
grew up to like each other and all now that we purport to be adults.
I tell her how we used to fight over how got to be banker in monopoly
because it was a lot easy to cheat if you were banker. We try some
Uno which she whips my butt in (pretty much). You have to say Uno
when you get down to one card. She's happy that she's win and
remarks on it several time in fact. We next play Rummy 500 which I
catch up and eventually win. I recall playing this with my father
for hours on end night after night and how we would have oranges
putting the peels in a paper tower especially for that purpose. I
still have that one paper towel when I eat an orange.
When I get down to one card in Rummy I shout Uno which everyone gets a
big kick out of. I suddenly realize that three hours have passed
and I should get going. Her nurse Chris comes in who I think is
great and very cute. Amy tells her how she kicked my butt in Uno.
Since my honor or self -image is at stake here I remind everyone how
I won at rummy. Its funny how quickly I said it but I laugh it off.
So vain!
I had a really fun time with Amy and often wonder how she is and how
she will turn out. I wonder if I will ever see these kids again.
Will they remember me? Will I be a part of of their childhood
memories? But mostly I just try and be there when I'm needed and try
and let the future take care of itself. That's probably the best I
can do.
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