Making & sustaining a difference

There was quite some commotion in the hallway of the PICU. A child was screaming, and the piercing cry resonated through the entire floor. A small crowd of doctors and nurses gathered in front of the room, folding arms and scratching heads. A particular smile was found on their faces--a mixture of pity and helplessness. Nothing short of sedative seemed to be able to calm the child down, and the chuckles and sighs of the adults betrayed their frustration at the situation.

"You need to come and play in this room!" One of them saw me coming from another room and called me across the hall. The others turned around and looked at me. "Something to calm the poor kid down. Some sort of lullaby." They laughed as a nurse walked out from the room, shaking her head. "Oh, boy."

I walked in, and there he was, the little screamer. He was only three years old, sitting inside one of those PICU cribs that looked more like a cage than a bed. My heart sank when I saw him: his head was bandaged and his eyes were so incredibly swollen that they looked like two mini donuts sticking out from his face. The poor child was screaming on the top of his lungs because he could not open his eyes and therefore could not see. He was scared out of his wits. His mother was not in the room, and his grandmother sat at a corner, not knowing what to do.

I stood as close to the crib as possible and started to play "Rock-a-by Baby". The screaming immediately ceased as the little boy turned his head slightly to the music, a shadow of surprise crossed his face. Sighs of relief came from outside as the small crowd of doctors and nurses dispersed to their respective positions. The grandmother was overjoyed as she came to the crib, touching the child's arm through the railings. The little boy whimpered, grabbing her hand with both of his, trying to decide whether to stay quiet and listen or to start screaming again. My guide suggested that the grandmother help the child lie down. "Perhaps he will fall asleep." But the moment she tried, he got ready to scream again. They decided to leave him be as I kept on playing. After a few seconds, the little boy decided to lie down on his own. However, the reality soon hit him that he still could not see and did not have any control over his surrounding. He started crying again. And as much as I wanted to stay with him the whole night, it was time to move on to the other rooms.

Nothing touches a person like making an instant difference. The gratifying feeling is one of the biggest drives behind people who decide to volunteer their time and gifts. It is moments like these when we are sure of our role in this world: to not simply live for ourselves, but to also live for the benefit of others. However, there is only so much that one person can do. The real difference sustains when we all decide, in one way or the other, to care for more than "me" and "mine".