I came in tonight absolutely determined to have a better shift. At community meeting right before work, the speaker had talked about the bitter water of Marah. Don't worry, he reminded us, Elim is just over the next dune. Thus, it was with an appropriate sense of what I can only call glee that I looked at my report sheet to find that my oldest patient is a whopping ten. As I love to do when time allows, I spent the first hour or so of the shift kissing patients, making faces at kids, snuggling babies and laughing with mamas about the resemblance (or lack thereof) between myself and my most recently kidnapped child. Alfred (yes, he's still here) treated me and the orthopedics coordinator (another favourite of his) to a rap / gospel concert. I attempted to beatbox for him and he nearly fell off the bed laughing.My patients are just the sweetest kids tonight. Last year, when I was applying to work with Mercy Ships, a nurse I worked with, Juanita, told me that someone from the ship was writing articles for a nursing magazine she gets. She showed me one of the articles, about a little boy with two club feet who would get his second foot fixed this year. We both grinned at each other and thought it would be pretty sweet if I got to take care of him. I had lunch with the author of that article yesterday, my fun-loving PICU friend, Auntie Megee. And the boy's name is Benedict; he's my patient tonight, the sweetest little boy to ever grace bed ten. When he's in pain, he just looks up at you, eyes filled with tears, waiting patiently for his medicine. And when he's not in pain, those eyes dance and shine as he laughs.
There's Jerry, a little tiny peanut of a baby who's snuggled in next to his mother and two brothers right now, a whole family jumbled together on two beds pushed side-by-side. Jerry and his brother Jonathan had surgeries today to take off extra fingers they were born with. Mom brought a third brother, Nathan, along to help out, so the whole thing is something of a family affair. Jerry has the softest puff of curly hair and tiny little bandaged hands. He and his brother also now have the chance to live their lives free from ridicule and accusations of being cursed. It's a happy family over there in the corner.
Acan is another favourite of mine (if I could even begin to pick sides in this crowd). A few days ago, I was caring for a patient in the ICU when I heard poorly-smothered giggling coming from the half-open doorway. I turned to see two little faces smiling up at me, one with ears that made me think of none other than Shrek. Acan and Benedict had come to visit, and would only be turned away after being adorned with shiny fish. (Right in the middle of the forehead, of course; that's how we rock the stickers LIB style.) Acan is still having pain issues, and he snuggles into my lap in the most endearing way possible while I give him his medicines. He's asleep at the moment, sprawled across his bed, stickers all over his face.I love kids. I love taking care of them and soothing them and playing with them. I love the challenge of managing their pain, something that goes so much deeper than just giving meds and telling them to wait the requisite thirty minutes until the desired effect is achieved. I love catching their eye across the room and having them grin and wave. I love kissing their foreheads and tucking them into bed at night with a prayer. I am in pediatric heaven right now.
(credit where credit is due: Meg Petock provided the photographic genius for this entry.)
