An identification tag on the foot of a newborn from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). photo courtesy of unsplash.com
Miracles can be found anywhere; mine came from a pair of bright blue eyes of a newborn I met in the hospital.
I had initially signed up to work at the Swedish Medical Center to fulfill the community service requirements needed for graduation, but I quickly fell in love with my position as a volunteer. Since then, I have consistently committed four hours of my time each week to spend serving the patients and visitors of the hospital. This experience not only allowed me to ameliorate my community, but also provided an opportunity for self-growth and granted me the realization of a career interest. The following is a personal anecdote that documents a specific encounter that changed my life and cultivated my passion and pursuit to become a medical professional.
Day 1 – For the sake of privacy, I will call her Patience. She came into this world 13 weeks early, weighing a little over one pound. This was the reason why I disliked volunteering in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU): it is heartbreaking to witness. These infants are so tiny, barely holding on to life as it is. The atmosphere was unnerving with the parents’ apprehension filling up the room. A few years ago, I had seen my brother’s birth, but compared to this, Patience seemed gaunt, almost cadaverous. It gave me chills.
Day 35 – Patience became very sick. Her red, almost transparent skin was connected to a million monitors, wires, and tubes. She was already underweight, but inside the towering incubator, Patience appeared even more so. It frightened me because her life seemed to further in its uncertainty. The nurses worked tirelessly while beeping alarms sounded overhead. Separated from her parents, Patience was crying – yet no tears came from her fused eyelids. Maybe the apprehension filling up the room was my own.
Day 56 – Patience is feeling better. She is still connected to the monitors and flashing red wires, but at least I can see the brilliant blue of her eyes. The puffiness around the lids lingered, but that did not stop Patience from taking in everything around her.
Day 98 – I observed from the sidelines as Patience was bundled up in the mother’s arms with her first bottle. They sat together, rocking in the chair contently. Her mom began to sing a serene lullaby, even if the big smile she wore made her eyes watery and her voice crack. I took my leave to give them some privacy.
Day 112 – The baby was discharged from the hospital. I watched as they disappeared down the hallway, along with my fear of the NICU. It was indeed heartbreaking, heartbreakingly beautiful. I used to think that it was a depressing place to be, but all it took was a little love and a little Patience to change my perspective.
Today – Patience will forever be an essential person in my life. Even though she was less than six months old, she taught me a very crucial lesson: to never give up hope. Even though the NICU carries an intimidating and dreadful connotation, it can also be a place of promise and miracles. My interaction with Patience and her family, no matter how limited it may have been, will be a precious memory that serves as my motivation to work towards a medical degree in college. I aspire to share what Patience taught me and implement it in the healthcare system by never giving up hope in the pursuit of the wellbeing of others. Because no matter how small, each and every person on this Earth has something to add to the beautiful complexity that makes up our lives.
