The Fourth Floor

Walking down the long hallway, I soon reach the information desk behind which are two ladies in pink smocks sitting and typing on keyboards. On the right side of the desk, I find the red volunteer book and sign in. One of the ladies looks up, smiles at me and then goes back to her typing. She knows why I’m here. Continuing down the hallway, I make a turn to the right and come upon a bank of elevators. I press the “UP” button. A minute later the bell rings, the doors open, and I step in for my weekly ride to the fourth floor.

Exiting the elevator, I walk down a smaller hall that has doors opening from each side. Finally I spot the sign telling me I’ve reached my weekly destination. "Pediatrics" it says. I smile. It is one of my favorite places to go. As I approach the desk at the nurse’s station, I see three nurses, a secretary, and two doctors. Miss Carol, holding a small bundle close, looks up and, upon seeing me, says in a teasingly angry voice, "Have I got a baby for you!" We both laugh because she knows me so well. There in her arms is a very small infant wrapped in a blanket with a pacifier in his mouth. Attached to his head is a cup covering the I.V. entry, and to his foot, a wire attached to monitor his heartbeat. "Sean is his name, and flirting is his game!" Miss Carol states as she places him in my arms. She tells me he’s only one month old and that his mother went to get something to eat. He’s so beautiful with very dark eyes and wisps of black hair covering his tiny head. His skin is so soft and pink that I can’t help running my fingers over his cheeks. One arm floats free from the confines of the blanket and the chubby fingers grasp at my hand. I coo at him and am awarded with a big smile. He most certainly is a flirt!

I hold Sean for the next hour, amazed at how heavy eight pounds can get. There is so much activity in the nurses’ station that I push my chair into a corner and rock Sean as I watch these “angels of mercy” hard at work. I hear frustration at how much paperwork they have. I hear giggles as the fight over the multi-flavored “jelly bellies” ensues. But mostly I see people who love their job. I am in awe at their efficiency and at their empathy with their little patients. Too soon, Miss Carol tells me that she has to take Sean back to his room to change Sean’s I.V. It is not long before the entire ward finds out that along with being a flirt, he has a very healthy set of lungs!

Free of Sean, I meander from room to room, picking up dinner trays and talking to the kids. There is one teenager who has been diagnosed with diabetes. He is learning how to give himself insulin shots and is remarkably cheerful despite this infliction. We chat for a few moments about his high school football team and he tells me he has a new girlfriend. In another room is a toddler with a terrible cough who keeps picking at his I.V. not understanding, of course, that it is for his own good. He’s so little and frightened. I sing softly and pat his back for a few minutes. He quiets down and slowly his eyes close as sleep overtakes him. The next room has a small girl of nine, sitting in a wheelchair. She watching the video of "Mary Poppins" and explains to me in great detail why it has always been her favorite movie. “A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.” How appropriate. Smiling, I agree and sit down to watch with her for a little while. We giggle and sing, "I love to laugh, ho, ho, ho, ho" together. She has Multiple Sclerosis and will be wheelchair-bound for as long as she survives the illness. She is a very happy little girl who is also blessed with the most beautiful smile!

The next room has a ten-year-old boy named Ryan who is intently playing Nintendo. He asks for more games to play and I deliver them. His bed is a mess from being in it way too long but he thanks me for the games and asks me to come back and play with him. I promise and leave to continue my rounds. In the hallway, I come upon a woman, the mother of the little one in the next room. "I just had to leave while they give him his treatment!" she exclaims, upset and shaking. I take her arm and walk her to the Parent’s Room and sit with her. I get her a cup of tea as she tells me that her little boy is on the list for a liver transplant but until then, has to have treatments that put him in severe pain. He’s only a year and a half. It seems that tragedy is not picky about age. After a few minutes, she and I walk back to the room. He is sitting up and upon seeing his mommy, shouts with glee, the tears still rolling down his cheeks. I leave them and walk back to the nurse’s station. Sean’s Mom has come back from dinner and he is in good hands, the very best hands. By now the parents of most of the kids have arrived to spend the evening. I see so many hugs by these Moms and Dads...something that illness in a child so often seems to bring out.

After a return visit to Ryan’s room I see he and his Dad in a neck-and-neck competition at the latest Nintendo game, I realize that my two hours with "my babies" are up for this week. I check out with Miss Carol, grab my coat and purse and head down the same hallways that brought me to the fourth floor. I leave with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye. My babies are all getting what they need right now...lots and lots of love. No matter how much their bodies hurt, it is the love that is most important. And there is lots of that on the fourth floor for those brave little soldiers. And even after 10 years of volunteering in the Pediatrics wing, it is still the reason I leave each week with a tear in my eye and a heart brimming over. I can hardly wait until next week.