Just take my hand...

We'd spent our morning sneaking around the hospital, shooting unexpected crew with the "Sock Monkey Shooter" (a hit from one of Mom's packages!), watching Lion King, then playing baseball with the clipboard and foam balls. At 2:30 when it was time to go outside, Josue's dressing over his wound had come off. "No, mon ami, deck 7!" he repeated over and over when I told him we had to redress it. "S'il vous plait, Becky, deck 7..." But he took my hand and walked down the hallway to the dressing room. Where he proceeded to dramatically flop himself on the bed and take control of the music my phone was playing. A short time later, the dressing was done and we were on our way to deck 7 with the rest of the patients.

My shifts over the past few weeks has been so full of laughter and "Things that never happen at home" moments. I work in a hospital where people stop and put their hands up when a 12-year-old points a sock monkey at them. Then they proceed to play dead when he shoots them with a foam ball. 

One Sunday night, the ward was full of kids, teenagers, and adults with lots of energy. A couple of my friends had stopped by to say hi and our surgeon's teenage son had come to play Connect 4 with Josue. None of the nurses were too busy, and one semi-jokingly suggested we play hide and seek. So of course, I instruct all the patients to get out of bed and for the day crew to explain to them the boundaries. Our ward and two other empty wards, if they were caught elsewhere it was soft diet for a week! (a cruel punishment according the patients- no one cares for soft diet, which consists of- soft foods)

All the nurses turned their backs and started counting, while the patients took off to hide. Josue was ecstatic, even when he was quickly found, because his friend Wesley had stayed to play. The little girls with bandages around their heads hid behind curtains hanging from the ceilings. As the nurses rounded up all the patients, we did a quick head count. Missing one. The new girl, Stephanie (who I have since nicknamed "Stepheeee" but you have to drag the e's out). She'd been here about 4 hours and we had already lost her. After a small moment of panic and a quick search, all were accounted for.

 

Next it was the nurses turn to hide. We told the patients to count to a million and then took off to hide. My plan was to hide under a bed with all the sheets down to cover me. (Things I would never do at home- get on the hospital floor to hide. Things I might never do again- get on the hospital floor to hide...) Karyn was heading to hide by the linen cart behind a curtain. But really, why hide behind a curtain when you can fit in the linen cart??

So she crawled in the cage and one of the caregivers immediately took to covering her with sheets, then proceeded to sit in front of the cart for the remainder of the game. 'Find the nurses' took a little longer than 'find the patients,' but eventually we were all accounted for, with the exception of Karyn . One of our long term patients, Angelique, kept turning to me with her hands up, a 'where is she?' look on her face. "Keep searching," I motioned.

As she approached the linen cart, Bed 10's father continues to read his book with a straight face. She opens the door and ruffles through the linen without seeing her. Then we hear "Kareen! Kareen!" and a burst of giggles. She calls all the patients and day crew into the room to see Karyn hiding in the linen cart. The patients get closer, not believing Angelique, stoop to see her and start to laugh. The papa who assisted in hiding could not hold it together any longer and was all laughs. This never happens at home.  

Our final round was Sardines, where one person hides and every person searches. When they find you, they join you in the hiding place. I took one of the girls to a hiding place suggested by another nurse. An exam bench against a wall with curtains in front of it, so if your knees are pulled up, they cannot see you. Josue was the first to find us, then Jasmine with the other 9-year-old girl. Josue gets the giggles, the hands-over-his-mouth/holding- his- nose/ shoulder-shaking giggles, which gives us away to Stephee and Angelique. We're pretty crowded, children in all our laps and Josue laying behind us against the wall. Finally Amy and baby Samme join. He's quiet until the last two nurses come in the room, then he giggles. Stephanie shakes her head, but it's such a cute baby giggle we couldn't be mad. 11 people, nurses and patients with various dressings and tubes, all squished on small tables. Things that never happen at home.

I could go on and on about with these stories. Patients with malformations we never see at home. With courage and determination so strong and rare. Stories that are hard to believe, but at the same time, so easy to believe because of where I work. These are the things and the days that make this place unlike any other and a place that I will miss.

But it's not over yet, 4 more weeks of surgeries, stories, and countless hours of baby holding, Connect 4 playing, and Lion King watching.

PS. I promise I do actually provide nursing care here. But Mom always said "If you get all your work done first, then you can go play with your friends!"


"I'm Gonna Love You Through It" - Martina McBride