Liv has been coughing for nearly three weeks. When she started to vomit, my husband and I began to worry. It’s the third day, and she can’t keep even the smallest sips of water down. Our normally spunky 2-year old is lethargic. She can barely keep her eyes open. Is she dehydrated? We head to a nearby urgent care.
The urgent care team sends us to Johns Hopkins All Children’s Emergency Center. In triage, Henry, our 1-year old, cries.
Suddenly, bubbles float around us. Henry calms down and Liv watches from my lap. Henry reaches high into the air until bubbles land on his fingertips and pop, one after the other. It is as if the whole world takes a deep breath and slows down for a moment.
“I use bubbles as a distraction,” says Asia James, orthopaedic technologist in the Johns Hopkins All Children’s Emergency Center. “When I see a family with several small children, I involve the siblings to help ease a stressful situation.”
We turn our focus to Liv as Henry quickly warms up to Asia, who has plenty of bubbles to keep his attention.
As the vaccine comes to the frontline workers, a world of possibilities begins to open up.
For Gavin, the hospital isn’t all about challenges and adversity. It’s about giving joy to others.
The holidays she has altered to care for kids are too many to count, but as she retires, she leaves much for patients and colleagues to be thankful.
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