Maurice

I have been thinking lately about writing a post on love. I find it a constant struggle between loving freely and openly, yet guarding my heart and keeping myself protected. I compared my time here so far to walking a tightrope. It is a constant balancing act between extreme highs and devastating lows. It should go without saying that my balance is only maintained by a closeness with God, this would be an impossible, unbalanced experience without that relationship, that love.

Maurice is 5 years old. He has a sweet, simple smile and smooth velvety skin. He wears yellow flip flops that are several sizes too big which causes him to shuffle his feet rather than take deliberate steps. He warms up to you within moments after meeting, and then finds his way into your lap within minutes. He has delicate fingers that grasp the little rag which he uses to wipe his ever-running nose. When he falls off into deep sleep he snores like an old man, big, loud breaths.

I met this little man last Friday. He was referred to us because the chemo treatment we gave him doesn't appear to be working. His cancer is spreading quickly. We said goodbye on friday with plans to visit him this week. When I squatted next to him for a hug, he placed his small arm around my neck and pressed his warm cheek into mine. I closed my eyes and took in the moment, absorbing every detail, trying to ingrain the feel of his fingers on my shoulder and the softness of his cheek on mine.
His mother watches over him carefully, and called us at midnight on Sunday to report Maurice was not doing well. When he came in yesterday he could barely keep his head straight as he shuffled down the hall. I picked him up and carried him to our exam room, his head resting heavily on my shoulder. I held him as one of our doctors listened to his chest and belly and I listened as he explained that a biopsy should be done again, the first one being inconsistent with what we are seeing now. Maurice slept heavily on my lap, his disease evident as the odor from his open tumor crept into the air around us.
Maurice is constantly wiping his nose because the tumor has invaded his sinuses, spreading from his eye with rapid speed. That also is the reason for his snoring. His oxygen levels dip dangerously low, both evidence that his airway is compromised and the growth into his brain is extensive and now reeking havoc.

This morning I went straight to Maurice, anxious to see him. He was crying when I walked in and his mom is her broken English said "he cry for you". As I sat next to Maurice, holding up the weight of little body as he leaned into me, I connected in a way that is hard to explain. I felt the ease in his body while being held (not a normal quality of a 5 year old boy)I watched his hand as he squeezed playdough, marveling at the contrast between the purple playdough and his dark brown skin. At one point he grasped my finger one by one, forming my hand into a fist that he then put his hand over mine, holding it gently. I slowly realized I love this little boy. Its not a love that can be defined, or placed in a neat little box. I have started feeling this love towards my patients gradually as I get to know them. Its one thing to show love towards someone as opposed to actually loving them, I have that much figured out. This is real love, at least by my definition and standards.

I am currently sitting down after Maurice's biopsy. I asked the surgeon if it would be ok for me to stay with him through it which he kindly agreed to. Before the surgery, each time I walked over to the ward to see him I faced strong emotions, and balanced them ever so carefully with quick prayers for strength as I leaned in close to Maurice's ear to give him small kisses. We prayed over his small body before the surgery, and I just finished more prayers through countless tears. Things like this make me hurt everywhere, yet unseen strength rises up from beneath the tears and I continue putting one foot in front of the other.

Maurice needs a miracle, and I am balancing my hope for this with the very real chance he may not survive. I rest now knowing God is in control, and I am free to love this little boy as God loves him. In reality, that's all I can do, and I'm ok with that. Its freeing when I think about it. I have no control whatsoever, zip. All I can do is love him. I can do that.

I have to mention one thing that was incredible about today. Any of you close to your mom? Well, I am, and I missed being able to see her on mothers day. She told me a while back that she sent a card before the last one I received. She was bummed thinking it wouldn't get to me. Today, before I went into surgery with Maurice, one of my friends brought me an envelope from the mail room. The familiar handwriting told me what I hoped, her card had made it. The outside says "Just sending you a little hug" and then the inside just says "Did you feel it?"
At that very moment I had needed a "mom" hug. My mom is an incredible mom and amazing friend to me, my consistent comfort regardless of what life throws at me. Today God knew I would need this, some familiar comfort from the one person who can always deliver it. Believe what you may about that statement, I'm sticking with it. If you do believe, pray for Maurice. Pray he has a treatable cancer and its not too late. Pray he wakes up one day to a disease free life. Pray for comfort for this little boy who wants nothing else than to be cuddled and held close.

My mom has been in the habit of sending magnets along with each card while I've been away. Here is the scripture printed on the one from today (I think its quite fitting ;)

Psalm 91:11
"He shall give his angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways"