Later in the day (6th day of surgery) I awaited Abegail’s arrival upstairs to the waiting area for surgery. She’s the young girl I spoke with earlier in the day down in the pediatric ward.
Needing a cold bottle of water, I left my station and headed through the hallway to find her seated in the waiting area with her mother, crying. I went to her thinking she was afraid. Her tiny body wracked with tears and unable to speak, her mother told me that she couldn’t have the surgery today. It turned out that she had a cough and cold coming on and the pediatrician and anesthesiologist concurred that it wouldn’t be safe to proceed. These are the kinds of tough decisions the medical team has had to make all week; it breaks their hearts to say no, but the safety of the patients must and always does come first.
Abegail is very disappointed. She’s been waiting to have her palate repaired, and the sadness that she must wait another year consumes her. I try to console her. I talk to her more about the possibility of coming to America as an exchange student. A good student, I’m really hoping I can find a way through my club or district to make it happen for her. I tell her I want to keep in touch and offer her my email address. She agrees to write with a nod, but has no words for the time being. I hug her repeatedly hoping that she knows my heart is sincere—I want to be her friend.
Later that evening after finishing the day of work, I log on to find that she has “friended” me on Facebook. We are indeed friends. Once again, I am blessed. A co-worker later gives me Abegail's artwork, a doodle page, where she'd written my name with a heart beside it.
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| Lynn was our jack-of-all-trades but helped a lot with transport and entertaining the children as they waited their turn for surgery. |
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| The man, the mystery -- Dave, our mission photojournalist, doing what he did. This is about all I got of him. :) |
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