The brightness of her eyes met my gaze as I entered Ella's room at Lurie’s Children’s Hospital in
Chicago. The room looked brighter from when I left 45 minutes earlier. Ella’s eyes then glided away from mine
and steadfastly smiled at Sylvia (name has been changed), a hospital volunteer, who had been with Ella while I was gone.
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Leading up to Ella’s spinal fusion surgery, the anticipation held a plethora of emotions; from excitement for
a straighter spine--to the dreaded fear of the pain that goes along with this kind of surgery. Her spirits,
however, remained optimistic. On a Thursday, Ella entered Lurie’s Children’s hospital in Chicago…ready for
her life to be changed.
When the surgery team was finished, Ella was placed in the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care
Unit) primarily to monitor her respiration and pain for several days. Her pain was constant and it was difficult
on her; and on anyone who was with her. She was on Dilaudid, Oxycodone, Valium, and Tylenol/Motrin for the pain.
After several days in the PICU, she was moved to the pulmonary floor (to continue respiration monitoring)
where her pain and discomfort continued. It was hard for her to deal with, it was intractable.
The staff at Lurie's worked dilegently with Ella. They helped in so many ways with Ella's pain and discomfort;
positive talk about how she is faring, prompt dosage of all of her medications, distractions with conversations
and fidgets, g-tube feeding, cold and warm packs, daily hygiene, and bedside manners that simply can't be beat.
We felt well taken care of.
On Monday afternoon, Ella had just finished her physical therapy session which consisted of getting her
transferred her to her wheelchair. It was a long, painful process. She cried, she screamed, she
quivered…she did it though ~ despite it taking a lot out of her.
As we were transferring her back into her bed, a hospital volunteer came into the room and stood by the door. She
was quiet and observant.
Ella whimpered as she began to slow down her tears--with the uneven breathing and sobs we all do. The physical therapist
left the room sharing his good advice and some encouraging words which fell on Ella's deaf ears…she was in too
much pain, too uncomfortable, and too drugged up from days of narcotics to make much sense out of
anything.
I thanked the PT and turned toward the volunteer. She introduced herself. Sylvia. We exchanged niceties, and
turned our attention to Ella, who was still whimpering as she waited for sleep to overcome her to afford her
some relief.
I was tired from the physical and emotional energy exerted from the session, frustrated with how uncomfortable Ella was feeling, and my
bunions were killing me. At this point, the volunteer recaptured my attention and told me go out and take a break. I looked at her quizzically
at first, then realized she was right. I needed a break. I told her that I’d be back in 10-15 minutes. She chuckled slightly and replied, “Take
your time, I can stay as late as 5:00 pm…take the 45 minutes”.
A deep breath escaped from me and I nodded my head with all intentions to return in 15 minutes; being
away is just as difficult as being there. Sylvia introduced herself to Ella and Ella basically grunted within a whimper...her frustration was
quite evident.
I left the room.
Once outside the hospital I walked. I people-watched for a bit. I thought of nothing except what was right in
front of me. After a short while of this my bunions started to really ache and my big-toe joints began to
stiffen…I needed the bunion cushions; and badly. I hobbled to the corner of Michigan Ave. and E. Chicago
into the ‘larger-than-I'm-used-to’ Walgreens. I purchased the bunion cushions and some trail mix and noticed that
my planned 15 minute hiatus had turned into almost 35 minutes! The volunteer, Sylvia, wanted to leave at 5:00 pm!
As much as my feet would tolerate it, I made my way “briskly” back to Ella’s hospital room.
My expectations for my return to her room filled my head while navigating Lurie’s hallways. I imagined her as I left her;
tired and frustrated, and experiencing everything horrible that comes from post spinal fusion surgery.
I knocked the customary "someone's here" knock on her door and slid in quietly. I didn't hear any sounds. I figured Sylvia
was gone and Ella was sleeping. I entered softly. I looked at Ella and she was awake and talking with Sylvia who
had pulled up a chair for more intimacy. Ella gazed at me briefly and then her thoughts and attention were
instantly back on Sylvia. I gained both of their attentions with a cough. They turned their heads towards me
simultaneously, two faces filled with smiles, and I was given a pleasant greeting from them. We talked a bit.
The volunteer left as quietly as she arrived. She said a few words to Ella as if to remind her of something, took a
moment to wish me well, and parted ways…probably never to be seen again by either of us.
From that point on, Ella was different. She was calmly talking, smiling every so often, and complained about
her discomforts with an absence of her recent, understandable, frustration. She turned the corner that we were waiting
for her to turn.
All of us had waited, and so did Sylvia, who entered Ella's life at that particular moment.
Sylvia went with Ella through that turn. Their 45 minutes together must have been something really special for the two of them.
The power of people (POP). It’s a curious thing. People come and people go from our lives. Some stay for very short
times and others for a lifetime; and everything in between. Even unknown people on the streets enter and leave our lives
(albeit quickly), usually with little or no consequence, but nonetheless--a part of our living experience.
Sylvia spent 45 minutes with Ella. And within that short time, she was able to reach a part of Ella that allowed her
to come to terms, on some level, with what was happening.
To underestimate one’s effect(s) on another's life stifles our abilities to help do good by them. Every interaction with the
world, and all it offers, serves a purpose. I don’t know where Sylvia came from and I don’t know where she
went…but I do know that she departed right at 5:00 pm, leaving me a bit perplexed yet with a feeling that everything was going to be alright.
Lurie's slogan reads, "All, for your one"...and it rang true for Ella this summer.
