Working with children at the hospital // Flashes of Hope

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I think I've mentioned here before that every month, I take students from the hair school that I work at and we volunteer at Arnold Palmer and Florida Hospital's Walt Disney Pavilion. The organization we work with is called Flashes of Hope. We provide hair and makeup for the child and/or their family. 

Seeing sick children is always hard. Seeing a child in any pain breaks my heart. But it will always take my breath away and shatter my heart when I see a child who you know may not ever get the chance to go home. And I think what may even get me more than that? Seeing their parents/guardians/loved ones and knowing they will experience the worst kind of loss. That of their child. 

Last week we were on probably one of the most inspiring yet heart breaking shoots we've had thus far. A lot of times a patient or their parent will change their minds and not want to come down, they'll be too sick from treatment, or just not up for getting out of their room. In these cases, we offer to go to their rooms to make it easier on them. Sometimes they say yes, most times they decline. Last week we had two rooms to go into. There was a miscommunication and I had to go up into one of the rooms to grab some extra makeup for a patient downstairs.

Walking through a floor and seeing children in bed, hooked up to monitors and medicines and machines will make anyone sad. It wasn't something I was prepared for that morning and definitely left my heart aching more than it usually does when we do these. When I got back to the family downstairs, the Mother we did makeup for told us she had already lost her two older children (both under 10 years) and now all she had was the child we saw that morning, six years old. 

Back upstairs there was a teenager who had changed his mind. He was going into kidney failure and was told this probably wasn't going to get any better. His response to the photo shoot, "If I make it out alive, why would I ever want to remember this?" I get it, kid. I get it. I wanted to hug him and give him every ounce of courage and happiness I had. 

Then we met her. The little girl I cannot get out of my head, almost a week later. This child and her Dad had just moved into the Ronald McDonald House, and after her treatment, saw a flyer that we were there and hoped they could walk in. Flashes of Hope gladly took them in and in no time we were pampering this little girl. 

She was the most positive person I have ever met. She wheeled herself up to the window and said, "This is such a beautiful view. The sky is so blue! I just love it." We all had such fun with her Dad, and I could help but admire this man. Here he was all alone, unable to work, living and breathing for his daughter. All they have are each other, and the future is so uncertain. And yet, this little girl was so kind. So loving. So positive. She didn't say one negative thing (same with her Dad). She smiled the entire time and constantly needed to make sure even at her young age that everyone else was having fun too. 

I obviously can't go into detail about this little family because of privacy, but it was absolutely heartbreaking and inspiring all at once. I had to step into the bathroom at one point because I couldn't hold in my tears, and by the time I was in my car, I was in full meltdown mode. 

There is always something to learn from and take from these events. I always hope for the best for every single family that I meet. But there was something so special about this little girl. I will never, ever forget her or her Dad. I look up to them. 

I can only wish with all my might that she grows up to be even greater than she already is. I wish her the world.