Cheer him on!

Last Friday night something epic happened here on the ship. It was beautiful, spontaneous, and something I will remember forever. My favorite little guy on the ward, “L”, had to go back to frequent dressing changes after he had a complication with his eye. Initially they were every shift, then once a day, then once every 3 days. These changes are sheer torture for him leaving him in a trance like stupor for hours after. He is so afraid that he actually avoids the room where we change them, or if someone even mentions the words dressing and change he hides. I mean I really can’t blame him. It’s one of the most sensitive areas on your body, and we are manipulating it, applying pressure, and causing pain. A six year old doesn’t understand why it is necessary to help in the long run to shrink the area in which his tumor was removed. To him in this moment we are the biggest meanies on the face of the planet. When he was on the ward the first time around we were actually giving him medications to both make him drowsy and block the changes from memory. This second admission we decided to take a different approach. Because the changes were no longer required to be sterile, we were letting him take down his own dressing. This kind of played into his “I’m six years old and I want to do things my way”. We would let him slowly start taking it down an hour before we wanted to change him, and we were having much better results. Instead of screams of torture and tears we were getting quieter whimpers and smaller tears. If you remember from a previous blog, he once got so worked up during a change that in a moment of mania he bit his Poppa when we were releasing him from his swaddle---- no good! Last Friday night we had been playing lots of games, had just had a dance party, and then were settling in for a movie. As I sat with him on my lap my friend Jen told me to have him start taking it down. He was very hesitant, but doing it at the rate of molasses. For some reason I started saying “Go L Go!” , “Go L Go!” kind of bouncing him on my lap to a beat. Fara, a dayworker, joined in too! We started clapping, chanting, and cheering him on. Within a couple of minutes the ENTIRE ward joined in. All the other nurses, caregivers, and even several patients gathered around, all clapping, cheering and shouting him on. Encouraging words were being shouted in not only English, but French, two tribal dialects, and Krio. As he sat on my lap, legs wrapped around mine I kept peaking around his tiny body to see the priceless look on his face. It was one mixed with determination, pain, and excitement. He made it through the entire change without shedding one tear or even whimpering. As soon as he had his ointment applied and the new bandage sealed the high fives started.  Literally every person in the room wanted a high five, people were congratulating him on being a “big man” a “brave boy who no cry”. He was being hugged, slapped on the back, shaking hands, truly a celebrity. Many of our patients had been witnesses to these daily changes with him, heard his cries, and saw his after effect. They all had gone through the torture with him, and realized how amazing this was. There were smiles plastered to every face in the room, so proud of their friend, playmate, and co-patient. When he was all done he just jumped down, gave me a hug and ran off ready to move on to the next thing like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. It was so amazingly beautiful, I could feel the energy from the room in my chest, choking on the beauty of it. Our ship family all joined at “L’s” side, cheering him along on his path for a different life. I thank God every day for bringing this little man and his poppa to us-- I learn something from them every single day, and that night I shed a tear of joy for this little man--one of the bravest boys I know.