She quickly became one with her treatment, deeply interested in all that was going on around her. A terrific patient, Eloise was always willing and able to help. “Can I flush my line?” was a common request.
I remember one night, early in her treatment, when we took a late-night stroll around our wing at Children’s Hospital. We bumped into our nurse, who for various reasons was having a difficult night. As Tina stopped for a moment to say “Hi,” Eloise said to her, “I know you’re having a tough night, but I love you.” After she fell asleep that night, I held her hand and cried for a half hour, realizing just how lucky I was to have such a wonderful kid.
Sure, she’s had bad days. We remember the many times we held her hand as she threw up, saying between gasps, “I’m OK! Don’t worry about me!” Or the countless shots I had the privilege to administer as she looked me in the eye and told me it was OK and that I was good at giving the shot. Her reward was a Band-Aid she would pick from the countless boxes that filled our shelves. My reward was a big hug. I know I got the better deal.
We witnessed much in the past year. We came to know families whose suffering was far worse than ours, as cancer took their son or daughter away from them. And others still who survived treatment and are now well on their way to recovery. We grew increasingly frustrated with the health-care system, but at the same time realized how fortunate we are to have great health insurance and a facility like Children’s Hospital in our backyard. As Dickens said in “A Tale of Two Cities,” “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Heroism is defined as “of great courage, nobility.” Growing up, my heroes were athletes: Mays, Namath, Biletnikoff, Bench, Clemente and anyone who played football for the University of Washington. I now have a new hero. Her name is Eloise, and she’s 4 years old.
