magic moments

My back was really hurting last night. When I’m not holding kids at work, I’m bent over the dressing room table. I got up in the middle of the night and when I bent to pick something up, I could tell there was something wrong. Normally that’s something I would be administered to for, but I’m in the middle of South Africa, so I prayed that God would use that same power to heal my back. I got up this morning and was totally fine. I ate a fabulous mango and was energized and ready for work. I lifted kids all day and didn’t notice my back once. Praise God!

Today was a day of magic moments. The first started off with a little (maybe 6 year old?) boy named “Louie.” (You can tell I’m making all these names up because the real names are much more African and exciting). Louie has severe delays. I’m not exactly sure what all his underlying conditions are, but I know he has frequent seizures that have affected his a ability to function. He is nonverbal and often moans and rocks in his crib. Louie is what I would call the “forgotten child” on the unit. It happens in the US as well as Africa and I am just as guilty as the next person, so I am in no way passing judgment. We often shy away from situations that make us feel uncomfortable or that challenge us to work in areas we may feel inadequate. Knowing that fear within me, I have tried in the last year to become more educated and capable in working with all children, especially those similar to Louie. So today I picked Louie to be on my case load and I was determined to help others (as well as myself) see him more clearly. When I walked into Louie’s room, he was rocking and moaning. I gowned myself up in plastic and covered the rest of me in a blanket to protect myself and the other kids from the pretty bad infection he is fighting. I cradled Louie in my arms and rocked him and sang in his ear. His body was stiff and he moaned for a little bit, but soon I felt him relax and the moaning stopped. He took a few deep breathes and then cuddled himself into my arms. I continued singing and soon he fell asleep. He was more restful than I had seen him, especially during his wakeful moments. It was such a magical moment. I even cried a little as I was holding him and looked at his peaceful face. I was sweating from my elbows with all the layers, but I held him for some time. I was thinking as I held him how much God loves each of the kids on that ward equally and it challenged me in my heart to do the same. Louie cried for a while when I put him back in his bed. That’s the hardest part about being here is leaving the kids every time I have to step away. I know it’s going to be even harder when it comes time for me to leave for good. ☹

My other magic moment occurred today with Molly. We have been bonding quite well, but she still displays such a flat affect. Today her brother Joe came back to the ward for a follow up visit. He has been moved to a medical home where many of the kids transition when their burns allow. He looked awesome! It was so great to see him happy and smiling. I asked Joe if he wanted to visit Missy and he followed me to her bed. She was playing with a book, but when she saw him her face lit up. She smiled and even laughed! It was the first time I’ve seen her personality since she got here. They played together for quite some time. Joe was so attentive and tried hard to make her smile and laugh and to lead her in play activities. At one point they started talking about their burns. I don’t know what they were saying, but Joe pulled up his shorts and showed Missy his donor sites. She started touching her bandages and he touched them too. I became quite tearful again as I witnessed this magic moment. It was such a huge difference from their first reunion I blogged about earlier. I stepped out and watched them from the door because they seemed to talk more when I wasn’t right by them – even though I had no idea what they were saying anyway. ☺ They laughed and talked. It was wonderful. It came time for Joe to leave and I knew the transition would be difficult. Joe said bye and Missy waved back at him. When I came back from dropping Joe off, I could hear Missy crying. I went to see what was wrong and one of the other dads was putting her back in her crib. (That’s one really neat thing about the bays – there is a really tight knit feel of community. The parents become very close and often support each other and their kids.) He said that he looked over and he thought she was about to fall off her chair. He wasn’t sure why, but I think she was probably trying to follow Joe and I out the door. I took some blocks to her for play, but I could tell she was mad – even though her affect was pretty flat again. I stacked the blocks and she would knock them down. It wasn’t in a playful way, but in a very cathartic, angry way. Soon she started throwing the blocks. I allowed her to continue with her angry play, glad she could have an outlet for the emotions she so often represses. It’s so hard not to be able to communicate with her. I’m guessing she sees her time in the hospital as punishment and I fear she thinks she’s been abandoned here. I tried to walk away from play, but she became so upset that I stayed for a while. I’m so happy for her joyful moment today, but it saddens me to see the pain that followed. During her dressing later that afternoon she kept yelling for her brother. I’m sure she thought he was still there and would be able to come save her.

I can’t believe tomorrow if Friday, the end of another week. Usually that’s exciting news, but I feel like my time is going too quickly. I’m prayerful that I’m accomplishing all I was sent here to accomplish and am so thankful for each of you for your support and encouragement in that.