He shakes his head. “Car accident.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, suddenly awkward.
“Yeah, my mom and dad died. And my little brother…they don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
Horrified, I look over at Cassie, who is laughing her ass off.
“Good one, dude,” she says, holding up her hand. He high-fives her and then gives me finger guns.
“My hips are fucked,” he explains.
“Language,” Cassie scolds, but not too seriously.
“Eh, it’s some kind of genetic anomaly. The doctors had to break both hips and reset them, so now I’m in this stupid cast for the next several weeks. Let me tell you, being a fourteen-year-old boy and having nurses help you go to the bathroom is not as much fun as it sounds.”
“Especially for the nurses,” Cassie says, raising her brow.
“I have no control over what this thing does in the morning,” he says, gesturing at himself.
I snort into my hand, and Cassie wacks him upside his head. Not hard, of course, but enough to make him jokingly yell, “Abuse! How dare you!”
“I can do whatever I want, kid. You’ve already Chicken Littled too many times. They’ll never believe you.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Rude.”
As we’re all cracking up, a little girl comes in with another nurse. She’s super cute, with thick blonde hair covering half her face.
I kneel in front of her. “Hi, I’m Mac.”
“I’m Gracie.”
“I’m here to play a few songs for y’all today.”
She smiles, and the sheet of hair moves enough to reveal severe burns on one side of her face. Now that I’m paying attention, the burn pattern continues to her hand on that side.
I’ve visited burn wards before, and I am familiar with the scarring, but you never really get used to it, especially with a little girl like Gracie. You know how much pain that must’ve caused her and how painful her recovery must be.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” I say, allowing my smile to simply be genuine.
“Oh, I like your hair too,” she says, lifting her damaged hand to touch it. I lean forward a bit more, and she pushes in on it.
“It’s puffy!” she says, giggling.
“That’s because I put product in it.”
“I like it.”
Our little exchange reminds me why I like visiting children’s wards. Whatever they’re going through sucks, no doubt. But adults tend to belabor the things that are wrong with them. That’s not bad in and of itself. We try to make things better by figuring out what’s wrong.
The kids, however…once they get past a certain point, they just accept what’s going on and adjust. Adults are always trying to ignore their reality and continue on as though nothing has shifted.
As I listen back to my thoughts, I curse under my breath. Pretty sure that’s exactly what I’ve been doing when I complain about my modifications. Hm.
Anyway, seeing a little girl who has clearly been through something awful be smiley, happy, and playful reminds me that my attitude is the easiest thing for me to modify.
For starters, because of the boot and the cane, Igetto walk around instead of being confined to one space. Also, I have a magical cabin in the woods to return to, plus a beautiful woman to enjoy it with.
I have valid complaints, sure, but it does no good to complain and forget the big picture.
