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July 30, 2007
I knew the little girl was crying even though she had her back to me. Nobody was paying particular attention to her. The nurses were at their station working and two elderly people were talking to each other on the chairs near the door of the hospital. The girl was sitting on the floor playing with a coloring book.
“Hi,” I said, crouching down beside her. “You seem to be sad.”
“Uh huh,” she replied.
“May I ask why?” I said, gently.
“Uh huh,” she said softly.
She was quiet for a few minutes. I did not push her for a reply. I remained where I was, waiting for her answer.
Without looking up she said, “I think my brother’s going to die.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because he has cancer.”
“Cancer, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Having cancer doesn’t mean he’s going to die,” I said.
“For real?” she said, looking up at me.
“Yup. A lot of kids survive cancer. To tell you the truth, more kids survive cancer than die from it.”
“They do?”
Her face suddenly lit up.
“Sure. But the he treatment is a bit yucky though.”
“I know my brother threw up in my lap the other day,” she said, screwing up her face.
“A kid once threw up on my head,” I said. “Right here in this room. I was giving him a ride on my shoulders and he barfed all over the back of my head.”
The little girl threw back her head and laughed.
“Eeuuww.”
Just then the girls mother and her brother came into the waiting room from the X-ray area.
The little girl ran over and hugged her sick brother. The mother affectionately patted the girl on the head and they made their way back to the boy’s room.
I followed behind them because I was heading in the same direction.
The mother and the boy walked into their room.
The little girl hesitated at the door and turned toward me.
She smiled.
I returned the smile and stretched out my open palm toward her as I passed.
She leaned over and gave me five. Then she pointed at me.
I pointed back at her.
We said nothing to each other.
We didn’t have to.
Posted by trevor at July 30, 2007 09:19 AM