My worst medicine stories involve sick children.
This isn't one of those stories.
Yes, there is a sick child involved, but this is a good story.
Spoiler alert: She lived. No deaths here, just wholesome fun.
I was quite green when this story occurred. I was relatively fresh off the branch, not long after med school. The main focus of my work at the time was preparing children for potentially life-changing surgery.
Preparing children for surgery is...interesting. We explain to them what we are going to do, but the little ones typically don't get it. That is why consent is taken from parents. It is the parents who typically feel the full weight of the crisis. The children, if they are well enough, just look at you with trusting and oblivious eyes.
This patient in particular was quite a character. She was a tiny thing. On her tiptoes with her hands stretched high, she probably came no higher than my waist. Yet, though she had the height of a toddler, she bore the face of a grumpy old man.
The child had a talent for scowling. Let's call her K. K scowled at everyone and she scowled at everything.
"Good morning K."
Scowl
"Are you hungry K?"
Scowl
"Time to bath K."
Scowl
I didn't blame her. I too might wear a permanent frown if I had to go through multiple major surgeries before I even started grade school.
So we left K alone. Once we were sure her expression didn't mean she was in pain, we let her be.
There was however one thing K didn't scowl at, Me.
Don't ask me how. I don't know. I wouldn't have noticed it if a colleague hadn't pointed it out.
"Look, look." My colleague nudged me in the ribs. We both watched as a nurse attempted to attend to K. K refused to cooperate.
My colleague nudged me again. "Go Help."
"Huh?" I responded.
"Go help." She repeated. "I'm checking something."
Trusting man that I man, I decided to indulge my colleague. As I approached, I noticed the corners of K's mouth begin to twitch. The scowl remained but now a smile lingered in its shadow.
When I returned, my colleague had a triumphant look on her face. There was a hint of jealousy too.
"I guess she has favorites." My colleague said. We were about to find out how true that statement was
The banana incident occurred late one Wednesday afternoon.
As my colleagues and I walked past Ks cot, we noticed she was enjoying a nice meal: bananas.
"Hi K!" My colleague said. "How are you? Can I get a banana?"
Scowl.
My colleague shook her head and walked on. I followed behind, flashing K a smile as I passed by her cot.
The child looked eyes with me, smiled in return, and offered me a banana.
"Ha!" I exclaimed much too loudly. My colleague looked thunderstruck.
"Wow." She said. "Wow, wow, wow."
Ks mother, who was sitting by the side of the cot, chuckled softly. I was glad to see the woman, who had been through so much and sacrificed all she had, have a moment of levity. I graciously accepted the banana after getting permission from Ks mother.
"Thank you K," I said with a smile before shooting a smug look at my colleague. That banana was the most delicious banana I have ever eaten.
It didn't stop there. Over the next few days, I was offered a juice box, hot chocolate, and more bananas. I didn't accept any other gifts, but I did feel my heart grow lighter and lighter.
The day K got discharged was a joyous day for all of us. We were all greatly invested in her and her mother's story. They fought hard, and they won.
I will be forever grateful to that banana girl for a moment of laughter in a sea of grays.
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