(I've been trying to come up with completely genius ways of giving to these kids, but sometimes you just have to follow God's lead ... cause he's a little more genius than us.)
I remember one of the first times I was in the hospital. I had a really high temperature, I think 104, and had pneumonia. And I remember after the fact my parents saying that there was a chance that I could have died. It was anything but a fun experience. I remember the ice baths, and hating them. I remember the IV, and the tornado that was bearing down on the town we were in (gotta love the panhandle of Texas). But there is one thing that stands out to me right now, more than anything. My family was there. In fact, the more I think about it, I’m recalling a lot of time being spent in the hospital: getting stitches on my head, stitches on my feet and then my head again. Pneumonia … again. And I always remember Mom and Dad. They were right there, telling me to squeeze their hand when I hurt. I remember seeing the tears in Mom’s eyes when I cried about how much the ice bath hurt. Even when I was 25 and tried to cut my arm off, I remember going into surgery and knowing that my mom was, even then, racing to Colorado to be with me as soon as she could. Looking back, I don’t think of my time in hospitals as scary times. Even though I was scared in the moment, the thing that stands out to me the most about those times is that I was loved.
The first weekend in October, a group of Americans and Ukrainian doctors went to the orphanage in Komrivka. They spent the weekend checking out whichever kids they could corral (I guess Ukrainian doctors are just as scary as American doctors). When they came to Alina, the alarm went up. She had swollen glands in her neck and her side, and her temperature was 104. The doctor seeing her said that she needed to be in the hospital … yesterday. There was even discussion of an emergency surgery.
Lexi, one of our teammates, rode with Alina to the hospital 4 towns over. Once there, they took Alina to the emergency room, the hospital admitted her and told Lexi goodbye.
And so Alina was alone. In the hospital. Not long after hearing the doctors say that what she had could potentially be life-threatening. Wondering if she would have to have surgery.
I know if it were me, the worst thing would be that I was alone.
The next Tuesday, we went up to the hospital to visit her. After asking in three different buildings if anyone knew of an Alina from the orphanage, we tracked her down to the children’s ward. The nurse went into Alina’s room to tell her that she had company, and Janna saw her form through the clouded glass, as she made a fist pump and then threw open the door, her eyes bright with anticipation. She dashed straight for Lexi, squeezed the stuffing out of her, and then moved to hug all of us.
You can tell a lot from the way someone hugs you. Alina didn’t slow down as she approached us. She didn’t ask for the hug by waiting for our arms to reach for her. She didn’t swing to one side to give a little hug. It was a desperate hug, it was a long hug, it was a tight hug, and it was a happy hug. This hug was the same one Janna gives me when she is saying with every fiber, “I’m so happy you’re here.”
We spent a few hours talking to Alina while she sat between Janna and Lexi. Alina would say something about the past few days in the hospital, and then she would bury herself in Lexi’s arms and then Janna’s.
She told us that she had been lonely, the whole weekend it had just been her and the three other kids from another orphanage. Apparently, her mom and aunt were planning to visit, but hadn’t made it yet. So we were her first visitors. Alina also said that she was really bored. Back on the lobby we saw that the hospital had a number of teddy bears for the kids to play with, but not a lot else. Alina is 11, we were pretty sure that she was moving out of her teddy bear phase.
So we decided to do something about it. We ran across town to a grocery store, and started looking for things to help the time go by.
Doug had asked which juices Alina liked, and learned that she liked every juice but tomato juice. So he got her a tomato juice.
I found some little puzzles, and a bag of Legos for the boys in the room.
Janna found coloring books, notebooks, crayons, pencils, some more puzzles, a few sweets, and vitamins, and was scouring every aisle for other things the young kids might like. Eventually we had to put a leash on her and tell her it was time to go.
Back in the hospital, it was like Christmas without the wrapping paper (we couldn’t find any). And before we said goodbye, Alina took one more try at cracking our ribs with a goodbye hug … or ten.
As we drove away, I thought about how if I were in her situation, I would probably never forget today.
I think we all made a friend for life. Because we were there when Alina needed a friend the most.
Follow-up. After showing up at the hospital without a gift basket, Janna decided to go to the store and buy presents so that next time we would be prepared. We filled two big boxes with the gifts we found. Two tons of preparation every time.
Janna and Alina. This picture was after Alina got out of the hospital. She is always so excited to see all of us now.
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