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November 13 Second Day of Surgery..Second/Third Day of Surgery…
Hi everyone!! I’m so, so sorry about the lapse between posts – there was a strike going on in West Bengali and everything in Kolkata shut down, so I wasn’t able to get to the internet. Kinsey and I got one more day at the hospital since I last post, and then we had to spend all of the day after (yesterday) in the hotel. But thankfully the strike is over and we’re back in action today!!!
You wouldn’t believe the day I had two days ago. When I was playing with the children in Pre – Op, I found this one little boy named Abdus who I seemed to have a particular connection with. He wasn’t rambunctious and excited like the other children. He kind of sat back on his bed, colored in pictures, and smiled at me whenever I came around. I him an extra Hotwheels car and he positively beamed at me. Suddenly I realized that I had seen him during screening the first day, and I had taken his picture for records. I remember thinking then that there was something special about this sweet, quiet young boy and that I hoped I would find him again later. And I had! This was the one, I thought to myself – this was the one I needed to go with the whole way, and follow into surgery. Abdus’ parents weren’t there with him, and I wanted to be the one to comfort him when he woke up. So when he was called up later in the afternoon I went with him into Childlife before surgery. He was called into the OR by a friendly anesthesiologist and I held his hand and we walked in together. Once I was all scrubbed in, I went in his OR and literally stood right by his side and watched the entire surgery! It was absolutely fascinating. I was literally front row and center, watching the surgery from right beside the bed the whole time. They cut his cleft lip, rearranged things, sewed it back together and somehow it all magically comes together in the end! I couldn’t believe how different he looked, how beautiful he was. I’ll bet he charms everyone now with his big brown eyes and new smile… They started to wake him up after the surgery and carried him into Recovery, and I went with them. Some of the children wake up screaming and crying, because they are confused from the anesthesia and in pain, but Abdus woke up slowly and serenely. I stroked his hair as he opened his eyes and called out his name. When he was more awake, I took out a pocket mirror and showed him his reflection. He was still too tired to hold the mirror. “Abdus,” I said. “Look how beautiful you are!” He stared at himself in the mirror for the longest time, too dazed and probably stunned to say anything. When he was ready I carried him upstairs to Post – Op and lay him in his head, stroking his arm and his hair. Where were his parents? Everyone was wondering. I wanted to get Abdus a stuffed animal, but I wasn’t going to leave even for a second until his mother was there with him. After a little while a woman came up looking for her son, with ‘Bed No. 11’ written on an index card. “Bed 11, that’s Abdus!” I said. The local nurses took her over to his bed and she stared at him for a few moments. She didn’t touch him or hug him or anything. Then she turned to the nurses and said in Bengali, “that’s not my son.” She argued with them for five minutes that they had put the wrong boy in the bed, or given her the wrong card, or something. Finally she looked at me, pointed at Abdus and said “Taorath.” Taorath was the boy in the bed next to Abdus. I shook my head. “Abdus,” I pointed at him. “Abdus Mandal.” She slowly turned to Abdus, moved closer to his face and said “What’s your name?” in Bengali. “Abdus Mandal,” my dazed Abdus managed to whisper. “Abdus?” she said again. He nodded his head yes. “Abdus??” She asked, and again he nodded. At that moment she broke down in tears and kissed his forehead. We watched, amazed and weepy ourselves, as she hugged him for a long time and wept. Then she took all of our hands and shook them wholeheartedly, the tears welling up in her eyes. This mother didn’t even recognize her son, that’s how different he looked! She looked at this beautiful complete little Abdus and thought that it couldn’t possibly be her son. She was so, unbelievably, unendingly thankful. I sat with them for a long time while she showed Abdus (who was still very much out of it) the pages of the coloring book I had just given him, and he clutched a little stuffed bear I had procured. She grabbed my hand a couple times and shook it, the joy was easy to read on her face. I never knew this woman before but she was treating me like her best friend, like the best person in the world. I did my best not to cry for Abdus’ sake, but I couldn’t help but shed a few lone tears at the beauty and happiness of the site before me. I don’t think I could ever have understood how truly powerful Operation Smile is without having had that experience. Really, this organization is so unbelievably amazing, and I am eternally grateful for the experiences and opportunities it has given me. Think of the sadness little Abdus would have to endure without this surgery, so much unnecessary grief and loneliness. And me, I never would have gotten the pleasure of meeting him. He was just the sweetest boy in the world. I’m glad I got to be with him throughout this whole process.
Kinsey stayed a lot with the teenagers. Nilofar, the 17 year old girl from my last blog, finally got her surgery that day. She looked great afterwards. I can’t imagine what it must have been like having to live with a cleft lip for that long. Now she can go home and show the world her beautiful new smile! I’m so excited for her.
You wouldn’t believe how kind everyone who works here is. Everywhere I go, if I’m carrying a heavy box, five locals come and help me. If I drop something, they will jump down with me to pick it up…I can tell how grateful they are that we are here. Huge smiles, all the time, from all of the nurses and cooks and workers…and to think I was worried they wouldn’t like us here! I’ve never felt such warmth in my life from strangers – and what’s more, we don’t even speak the same languages. Yes, Operation Smile fixes these children’s deformities, but there is this amazing interpersonal connection that comes along with it. Across cultural and lingual barriers, we reach out and make friends because we’re united by our communal goal – to help these children, to touch their lives, and to make a real difference in the world.
I go home tomorrow, and I have to say, this has been the most meaningful and rewarding experience of my life. Thank you all, and thanks to Operation Smile for making this possible for me.
Keep reading even after I get back, I’ll update on Thursday with some more conclusive remarks and extra photos to share with you all! And check out the new album from day two of surgery - its coming soon today!!! I’m in the hospital now, and I have to get back to all the new patients.
Until next time
Jessica November 11 First day of Surgery...First Day of Surgery:
My fellow student Kinsey and I also fell for this young boy named Asraf, who had these kind eyes and the sweetest face. We gave him a little toy car and he drew a picture of it for us, copying down the letters that were spelled on the license plate in the back: "Mercedes Benz." I showed it to Kinsey and we both giggled and gave him a high five. He was outgoing and not too rowdy - just the sweetest little boy you've ever met. His named was called for surgery and we noticed his parents weren't there to go up with him. The nurses told us he didn't have a mother, and his father had to leave to go to work. So Kinsey and I took him upstairs and played with him, sat with him and held him while the child life specialist gave him the pre-surgery prep speech, and walked with him towards the OR until the surgeons literally pushed us away. We played with the other children and handed out giveaways while anxiously waiting for him to be wheeled into recovery. Finally a nurse came and told us that he was out, and we took turns going into the recovery room to be with him. He was bawling hysterically when I walked in, woosy and confused from the anesthesia and probably in plenty of pain. When I got by his bed he pushed the doctors away who were holding him and jumped into my arms. "That is so sweet! I have to take a picture," the doctors exclamed. I was so overwhelmed by his emotion, and my own. So much love poured out of me in that moment. I had to fight back tears, I knew I had to be strong for Asraf. And I held him, rubbing his back and speaking to him calmly while he rested his head on my shoulder. Finally when the crying had ceased a little one of the surgeons brought out a mirror and held it up for him to see. "Look," she said to Asraf in Bengali. He stared at himself in the mirror and went silent. For a brief second he was stunned, probably didn't even believe this beautiful, complete boy looking back at him was really him, was really his own reflection. Then he remembered how much pain he was in and proceeded to burst into tears again. And I held him. And that one moment, that silent, fleeting moment when he was looking at his new reflection - it was one of the most powerful moments of my life. His father arrived shortly after and Kinsey and I left. I saw the father look at us curiously when we returned with a stuffed frog for Asraf about a second later. After a while he seemed to get it. We didn't speak the same language, but somehow we understood each other. Kinsey and I said with our faces "we love your son, he's great, and we want to make sure he's okay." And he said silently back: "I know. He's wonderful. And I'm here for him too." We had nothing in common, the father and I, except Asraf. And now I understand how children can unite cultures and peoples despite their vast differences. In some ways, it's the older ones that can really get you emotional - the teenagers who are around my age. By then, they have lived with this terrible deformity for so long. They are old enough to realize what a momentous change in their lives is about to take place. I was sitting with a seventeen year old girl today, keeping her company in the pre-op room, when her name was called to go into surgery. I watched her face as tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. "It's okay," one of the nurses rubbed her back calmingly. "You're going to be fine." But I knew that's not why she was crying. She was crying because in an hour, for the first time in her seventeen years, she was going to be able to smile. She was going to be able to let go of her shame. When I was with her before, I could tell she wasn't used to having people be nice to her. Even when I was just smiling at her, she looked at me with such appreciation in her eyes that I had to try my hardest not to weep. This poor girl was thankful that I was nice to her, that I didn't shrink away from her like everyone in the outside world had done, for so, so long. I have so much to be thankful for, and have taken so little time to actually be thankful. And this girl, this young woman in front of me, thanked me silently over and over again just for a simple smile. Just for some kindness, kindness that is so easy to give and yet for some reason few people had given it to her. I wish I could have seen more of the children looking at themselves in the mirror for the first time after surgery, and the parents seeing them for the fisrt time...but Kinsey and I aren't really supposed to be in the OR/Recovery room until tomorrow, when everyone's a little more comfortable with the routine and everything's a bit more settled. The only reason we got to go in with Asraf was because his parents weren't there. Poor little guy, all alone and confused after surgery. It absolutely melted my heart when he jumped on me. Kinsey and I checked on him all night afterwards. He gave us the sweetest smile when he woke up, and motioned for us to sit by his bed. We didn't leave the hospital until 9:30 pm, but neither Kinsey nor I wanted to go. We could have stayed all night with those amazing kids. The tears are welling up now... I think I can safely say I learned a lot today. A lot about love, about change, about appreciation. And my gosh - this was only the first day of surgery! Who knows what the rest of the week will bring.... Thanks for reading everyone. Until tomorrow... -Jessica
November 09 ScreeningWow, what an incredible day! I'm so tired that my eyelids are drooping down even as I type this; we really worked hard from sun up to sun down. As you all know, today was screening day - the day where the medical staff screen each patient who shows up and decide who receives surgery and who does not. That means all day, there are children of all ages, their parents, and their siblings shuffling around the hospital, going through each of the stations, getting blood taken, and doing a lot of waiting around. That's where we (the students) came in - it was our responsibility to entertain the kids, as well as help out the rest of the team with whatever they needed us to do. The second we got there, there was already a huge line of hopeful parents and children waiting in line. I was nervous, at first - I didn't know how receptive everyone would be to my playing around. But all the parents were so kind and open, and all the kids gave me big, bright smiles the second I walked over. I started going around the lines blowing bubbles and giving out stickers. I've never seen bubbles and stickers have such a power over children before. These are exotic toys to the children, and they absolutely loved them! They ran around, smacking the bubbles and giggling as they put stickers all over my cheeks and arms. Then Kinsey (my fellow student team member) and I got out our packs of crayons and coloring books and set down some kids in groups to color. They caught on right away, coloring away and tapping my shoulder every second to show me the picture they had made. "For you," said one of the girls in broken English. "Give." And they gave me all of their drawings.
I should also say that it was a little bit shocking at first to see firsthand the deformities that these children are living with. It's one thing to see a cleft lip in a picture, but it's another thing to see it in real life. It certainly reaffirmed for me how important it is that these children receive surgery, so that they can live out happy, normal lives. Some of the children came in with masks or mouth covers tied over their faces. I almost teared up when one such little boy wouldn't even look at me when I tried to give him a smiley face sticker, because he was so ashamed. I could tell that some of these children weren't used to getting treated so nicely. They can feel so isolated and ostracized by the world around them just because of this deformity. I could tell they really appreciated having someone reach out to them, want to play, want to be their friend. And because they loved it so much I loved it so much. My shyness turned into confidence and exuberance. Whatever we did, whether we played with balls, jumped rope, colored, or just laughed and ran around together, I felt I could do no wrong. I fell in love with so many wonderful children today. They were all so friendly and sweet, and their parents were as warm and kind as I could ever hope for.
There was one little girl in particular that I developed a strong bond with, amidst the 115 kids that were screened today. When we first met I gave her 2 Scooby Doo stickers, and she gave me the biggest smile I'd ever seen. Her chart said she was eight years old. She followed me around everywhere, even into the lab where I was working for the nurses. Twice she ran in, grinning at me and waving her hands, and twice the nurses had to shoe her away. "She just really wants to play with you," laughed one of them after the second time. "You seem to have a whole fan club around here." It warmed me to hear her say that. After I was done in the lab, the sweet little girl took me by the hand and we walked around to the different medical stations. At each one, she promptly stuck out her palm to the medical staff and shook their hands, grinning as widely as ever. She has a unilateral cleft lip that extends all the way to her nose. And she was one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met, inside and out. All of the kids, however shy at first, seemed to sparkle and shine when Kinsey and I could bring out some warmth and joy. However tiring it was, it was definitely amazing getting to bond with so many children like that. Even across cultural and lingual barriers, we all still seemed to get along just fine. I couldn't understand what they were saying all the time, but the saying is really true - a smile is the same in every language. I can't wait to follow one of those children from pre op to recovery, and give her back to her parents, and watch her face light up as I show her her new face in the mirror. As exhausted as I am, I'm already ready to go to surgery days!!!
The biggest hit of the day by far was this little grey koala bear hand puppet that I picked up in the lab while I was labelling vials and filling our forms. For hours I went around to each parent holding a baby or small child and played puppet games with them. Kinsey and I even put on a whole puppet show, which attracted a large audience that the nurses liked to call "our fan club." Overall, it was an incredibly fun and rewarding screening. Everywhere, the children and Kinsey and I were laughing and playing and just having a good time together. By the end of the day I was covered in a mass of stickers, bubble goo, and laughing little kids. It was the best feeling ever. The joy it brings me to see joy in their eyes - it's absolutely indescribable.
Tomorrow is our "free day," and we are celebrating Diwali, the Indian "Festival of Lights." It's the biggest holiday of the year here! I'm excited to check out more of the culture here and bring back some fun souvenirs :)
Thanks for reading everyone, check out the pictures I'm uploading! They're from today's screening - I'm the one in the funny hat (which, by the way, was also a big hit)!
Until next time,
-Jessica November 07 The First Day...Hi everyone!
We arrived here in Kolkata at 3 am this morning. After spending the day recovering and meeting the team, everyone went to the hospital to take a tour and talk about screening the next day. Screening is the process by which the doctors decide which of the children receive surgery and which do not. "It's going to be a sad day," our mission coordinator warned us, "so be ready."
We'll be entertaining the kids as they wait for surgery tomorrow. I'm so excited to get to meet them, hear their stories, form connections with them. As I was getting off of the bus today, I saw a mother holding a small boy with a cleft lip. She must have gotten there early to beat to the lines. She smiled at me and whispered something in her child's here. He turned to me, waved quickly, and then buried his head into his mother's neck, embarassed. It was the first of hopefully many connections I'll make here, and one of the sweetest moments of my life. All the people here are like that, kind and ready to help.
There's great need here for Operation Smile's services. I can't wait for tomorrow to get started!
Talk to everyone soon, check for pictures tomorrow!
-Jessica Thanks for visiting!
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