Choosing Scrubs Over Bikinis

My first official full day back at Red Cross Children’s Hospital was (of course) a busy outpatient Wednesday. My first full day back in April was also one of these overwhelming Wednesdays. Even though the census was much lower than usual (10 inpatients and 6 outpatients), it was a fairly heavy load for two people. Caroline and I began taking note of the patients set up for procedures when Prof (head surgeon of pediatrics and a loyal fan of child life) invited us to a presentation on “Egyptology”. Not only is it poor manners to turn down Prof’s invitations, it becomes less more obligatory when he adds, “it is important to educate the Americans”. So Caroline and I attended the interesting, educational, but barely relevant seminar. In addition there were also many big players in pediatrics in attendance. Caroline pointed many of them out to me as the crowd settled in.

Caroline and I made it back to C2 (the burn unit) just as they were beginning procedures. I immediately fell into the pace of C2; children were rushed in, handed off, cleaned, bandaged, soothed, and removed…and so the cycle goes. The instantaneous love for the children of South Africa poured over me just as it did on my first visit months ago. Their eyes are so stunning; so soulful. It is easy to surrender to them. One patient was a tiny baby, my guess is 4 months old but I am also way off when I try to guess their ages (as well as the pronunciation of their names). As it often happens, the mother handed me the baby and left the room. The wounds were to her (his?) head and left arm so I immediately positioned her in the perfect comfort hold: close to my chest with her wounds exposed for the sisters to work. The baby calmed almost immediately and stared up at me with tear soaked eyes. I thought, ‘little one, you are far more brave and resilient in your few months than I have ever been in my 27 years.’

I also had what I have dubbed a “Snapshot Child Life Moment”. A little girl (with no nappy I can confidently say it was a girl) of about 3 was getting her hands bandaged. She was reacting as any 3 year old would when your mom leaves the room and you are left with some strangers to touch your very sore wounds. I took out my bubbles and (as it does in most cases) the crying ceased. The little girl looked up at the rainbow colored globes falling around her and giggled. She smiled at me with a single tear just below her right eye. That moment; that picture is the epitome of child life: turning tears to smiles.

I had a number of other positive interactions, some heartbreaking ones and even some comical ones. Like when I gave an 8 year old boy a small squeezable (American) football. Making conversation and proud to teach him something about America I asked him if he knew what kind of ball it was. When he nodded “no” I told him it was a football. I continued pointedly that it wasn’t a soccer football, but an American football. He and his dad laughed then exchanged some Afrikaans with the sisters. I then heard the sister tell him in English, “it’s a rugby ball” before they chuckled some more. My translation: “Americans don’t know anything about sports. It’s a rugby ball.” Laughing, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Moments later I presented the ball to Caroline and said, “So if anyone asks, this is a RUGBY ball.”

I was so happy to be back at RCCH and working with the staff and children. It is fulfilling to work hard and see positive results. It is also a wonderful team to be a part of. There are so many truly dedicated and talented people under that roof that it is humbling and truly honorable to be a functioning and valuable part of this elaborate team. So when the music therapist on C2 discovered that my first month was volunteer work, he asked if I was allowed to spend the day at the beach if I preferred. Seemingly sarcastic but in fact serious, I answered, “Why would I want to go to the beach if I could be here?”