Of the ten or so patients in the room, I was by far the oldest. The closest in age to me was a girl named Rana, around four, who seemed to have some kind of problems with her legs. She was absolutely unable to stand up and in fact would burst into tears if anyone attempted to hold her up on her own two feet. From what I was told just the fact that she was now able to sit was vast improvement from her original condition. She would have daily visits from her dad although I only recall her mom coming once. In spite of our age difference, we became friends during our stay.

Most patients were much younger, in fact too young to even be talking yet. One new child in our room seemed to have much difficulty adapting to her new environment in spite of her mother visiting every day. Her unintelligible cries had become a routine part of daily life in our room. One day the mother made her regular visit and then pulled a colorful rattle out of her purse and looked for somewhere that she could tie it so her sleeping daughter would eventually see it. She eventually began tying it, with some difficulty, around the bars of her child’s bed. A hospital employee stood close by and finally said, “Ma’am, visiting hours are over. I need you to leave.”

“I’m almost done,” she responded, desperation evident in her voice. “Just let me finish tying this knot.”

The employee patiently waited to the side while occasionally glancing at his watch. The woman was finally satisfied with her work and left her still-sleeping daughter, thanking the employee on her way out. I was curious to see how the child would react and so kept an eye on her. Once she woke up she immediately began crying as scheduled, however, she spotted the rattle. She made her way to it and began gently touching and shaking it. I told myself on her next visit I would let the mother know of her daughter’s happy reaction to her gift.