For you, the dress code is casual.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

About a sick little girl

A little girl from where I work is in the hospital, sick. It's one of those "it's a mystery" things, but it involves a growth is all we know, and she can't walk. I'm thinking about paying a visit just to bring a toy or something.

I know her mom relatively well, in that "waiting for her class" small-talk kinda way. I really freakin' feel for her. The fear and worry she must be enduring right now.

Sigh. I have such empathy for sick kids. I was sick a lot back then myself and know what a prolonged stay in the hospital can be like. It's scary when you're 8 or 9. I was 9. She's 8. I felt so bad about her that when they gave me the chance to design a card, I really went above and beyond and did a beautiful little one that had multiple pages so all the kids could sign it. Then I put this little Google-search gem of a get well poem in it, which I modified for my purposes:

Get well real fast, dear friend,
That’s what we wish for you,
For while you’re sick you’re deeply missed,
So sad are we, and blue

I remember one night I couldn't sleep, I was scared and worrying whether my kidney would still be mine in the weeks to come. Removal was the favourite option at the time. One nurse saw me staring at the ceiling, fidgetting. In she came. She asked me what was troubling me, and I just did the "can't sleep" mumble-thingie. She asked if I wanted some company. She said she had a break coming up and she'd love to play cards but no one had the time. Was I interested? Boy, was I.

We played cards until nearly 4am, when I finally tuckered out. For people I think of when I wish I was feeling a little better, when I wish I had a little of that old-time comforting, I think of my mom, that nurse, and the nurse who kept telling me how proud she was to know someone as brave as I was, and who gave me a white hospital blanket to take home, back when I had my nasty nostril-tearing episode.

(Good stitches; most people never notice. Freaky fuckin' wound. Showed up late for class on Monday morning in grade 2, the morning of the Stanley Park fieldtrip. I show up and the whole class is lined up, staring at me and my big fat nose bandage and the visible stitching. Mom put vitamin E on it every day. Healed awesomely.)

Anyhow, I really just want to drop in on the mom and make sure she's keeping shit together. Gotta be hard. She's a sensitive type gal anyhow, but this? Whew. I'll bring her a coffee & give her a coupon for another or something, and a couple of my muffins.

Muffins make everything better. Definitely going with muffins.

(Okay, so it turns out it's NOT a growth! YAY! She has a hairline fracture, and it was infected, hence the spot on the 'ray. Yay. Much better.)