Sunday, May 15, 2016

The Eyes Above the Mask

   Two little girls broke my heart on Saturday May 14, 2016.  Those two were not my girls. I have no idea who they are or what their names are.  I don't know where they are from or if I will ever see them again.  Strangely, I feel like I know them on a different level.  I feel like I should be there holding their hands right now.
   Both girls were in wheelchairs with their parents at their side.  Both were probably 10 years old or so.
   One was sitting outside with her mother, who seemed to be on the phone with doctors or insurance (story of our life).  She was sunken in to her wheelchair that could have fit about 2 more of her.  She had dark hair and an NG tube that was hooked to some orange juice.  I didn't see her move much as we walked up the sidewalk.  It seemed like a huge task to remove her mask as we were about 100 feet away.  She was probably coming out of treatments, or something like that.
   The other little girl was a little heavy set with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.  I probably wouldn't have paid much attention to her except she was surrounded by about 10 people.  Family, sisters, and a couple nurses.  As I got closer, I noticed her talking behind the mask and her eyes were filled with tears.  Her Dad walked beside her as her mother pushed her wheelchair.  I could tell something was going on, but in a way I didn't really want to know.
  I only describe seeing these two girls because they will never leave my mind, ever.
  The little girl outside about brought me to my knees first.  It probably would have been better to say she looked more like a zombie or post-op patient than a little girl.  She just had that look of "They woke me up now let me go back to sleep."  As we got closer I noticed her eyes.  Sunken and dark don't begin to describe it.  There looked like there was no life behind them.  We got about 10 feet away and she sort of turned her head to P's pink stroller.  We got closer, and as we were a couple feet away, she turned her head to look at Penelope.  Almost instantly it went from this blank stare to a meaningful, genuine smile.  Her eyes lit up, you could see her teeth from the grin.  She never moved her body, just her eyes and mouth.  We got right next to her and she looked up at me with that smile.  We kept walking and I noticed she went back to that look of just staring off into the distance as we got out of sight.  I felt my knees get weak immediately.  I'm not talking about getting married knees weak, I'm saying something came over me like never before.  We kept walking towards the entrance and thank God I had my sunglasses on because I'm sure I looked like a wreck.  Those tears came and went pretty fast because I knew I was about to walk inside and take my sunglasses off.  I was about to pull a real D-bag move and just wear them walking the halls, I wanted to keep crying.
  The other little girl, followed by her army of support about took what strength I had left.  P and Ellen were heading back to the room while I dropped off her meds at the pharmacy.  So I was already alone with my thoughts, which isn't good when walking those halls.  I'll skip everything that lead up to me hearing these words because they truthfully don't matter.  "I don't want to do this today. I'm scared and I don't want to wake up tomorrow hurting.  I can't do this anymore Daddy. I want to go home." Those feelings you are having right now, imagining that little girl being pushed by her Mommy and pleading to her Daddy, multiply that by 1000 and that was me.  I saw the pain in her eyes.  I saw the fear. Her eyes above that mask showed what no Dad wanted to see when he looked at his daughter.  I don't know what she was getting ready to do, but I wanted to do it for her. I wanted to walk with that Dad and make sure he was ok.  I also wanted to get the hell out of there before something else happened.
  Those two little girls won't be the last ones I meet here, but they were the first.  They gave me hope and sadness.  They showed me compassion and fear.  They also showed me how connected we all are here.  I don't know if I will ever see them again, but if I do, I hope I can put a smile on my face for them.  They need it. They deserve it.

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