Last Thursday, several of my patients in the hospital where I work spent every waking moment between IV pokes and surgeries in the playroom. Some of them did not like our interior decorating job, and decided to take matters into their own hands by decorating every one-inch square of the wall and floor with various shades of paint. Others, on our younger taste-testing toddler committee, wanted to ensure that the aquamarine and brick red crayons really did taste like aquamarine and, well, red brick. They did. This conclusion was made, of course, by mouthing every crayon in the playroom. Still others, in our animal rights activist group, freed our plastic animals by dumping every one that we owned (along with the dinosaurs, Little People, and action figures) onto the floor.
Due to infection control, and the swine flu epidemic sweeping across Austin (check out the link here: http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=5331186n&tag=contentMain;contentBody), this required that every one of those square inches touched by little fingers and every Lego, crayon, lion, tiger and bear in the playroom be wiped down (individually) with disinfectant wipes. Oh my.
Thursday evenings I am the only child life specialist who covers the hospital, (besides the ER specialist whose hands are tied juggling procedures and entertaining 350 swine-flu infected kids and family members in the waiting room). Because I am usually caught up in procedures and inpatient needs, the task of closing the playroom at night typically falls onto our extremely hard working child life assistant. Last Thursday night however things were slow as far as procedures went, and as I peered into the war zone - er, playroom - at 8pm, I knew immediately where I would be spending the remaining hour of my shift...
As I rinsed off a paint brush and she wiped off a tyrannosaurus Rex, our new child life assistant (I'll call her Jane) and I began chatting to get to know each other better. Jane asked me if I had family in the area, and when I explained that my closest family lived in Boise, Jane guessed how hard that must be, and how terribly I must miss them. I explained to her that while I grew up Miss Independent (thank you, Kelly Clarkson) and loved to move and live far away from home, when my nieces and nephew were born, it changed everything. When I took the job in Austin at Dell Children's Medical Center, thousands of miles from my family, I took it with the decision that I would fly home four times a year to be near them and watch my nieces and nephew grow up.
Jane guessed again (correctly) that round trip tickets from Austin to Boise were not cheap and wanted to know how I did it. I explained that I had evaluated my financial situation and created a budget that would allow it. Yes, this means coupon clipping while grocery shopping, buying clothes at TJ Max and thrift stores, and driving a station wagon instead of my dream Jeep Cherokee...but it's worth it when I step off the plane and my five-year-old niece Cora runs into my arms, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around me, as her 3-year-old sister Claire scampers close behind, screaming "Desi! Desi!" with a ginormous lollipop-sticky smile covering her face.
Jane smiled big at this description, wiping down piece 279 of the 500-piece puzzle she was cleaning, and stated she was impressed that someone as young as I had figured out my priorities. She said the majority of humanity figures out what's most important to them when tragedy strikes or they have a brush with death. This was true, I agreed, and discussed with her the saying that nobody on their death bed ever wishes they had spent more time at the office... Jane then explained that only in the last couple years had she truly figured out her priorities. She said she regretted not having spent enough time with her daughter as she grew up, and though she could not change the past, she was determined to live fully and give fully in the present. In fact, she explained she just left the full time work force to take on this part time child life assistant job, because her daughter and grandchild live nearby, and she wants to be able to spend more time with them. With her priorities.
As Jane and I sat there wiping off elephants and tea sets, our knees touching our chests as we squished into pre-school sized chairs, I hoped she was right about me. I hope that the people I love and the values I live remain my priorities - and stay what matters most in my life.
A few of my priorities, in no particular order...
My nephew Soren
My nieces Cora and Claire
My sister Cho and Soren
My sister Michelle, torturing me
Cora and Claire as purple things for Halloween
My brother Michael and my sisters Michelle, Cho, and Amber at Easter
Cora, just being Cora 
