Lemonade Stand

Today I was reminded of one of my favorite reasons for working as a Pediatric nurse, children are incredibly resilient. This resiliency was demonstrated by one of my all-time favorite patients. She is just 6 years old and suffers from a chronic kidney condition. Her medical history is extensive and complicated, and she has been a frequent face on our unit since her toddler years. In the last year, this child has spent more of her life in the hospital or living in hospital housing than in her own home. Needless to say she knows nearly all the nurses and doctors by first name and voice, and likewise we know her from her giggles and whines a mile away.

Today I woke up quite unhappy to go to work. Mostly because the World Cup opened today, but also because I was just plain tired. But of course I made the hour long drive in to the hospital, and was unhappily greeted by an incredibly busy, chaotic unit. The first four hours flew by in a hurried haze and by the time my lunch break came I was ready to throw in the towel. It was with much grumbling and resistance that I returned from my half hour break. As I finally sat down to catch up on my back charting from the morning I was greeted by Miss Priss and her cherub like cheeks. She wandered over to me and presented me with a plastic box. I easily identified the box, it was one of the plastic containers that diaper wipes are stored in. I smiled and asked her what she was doing carrying her wipes all around the unit. She grinned slyly and held the box up so that I could see it more clearly. It was then that I noticed the little note taped on to the lid of the box, it read "Lemonade $1." I laughed and said "Okay so this is the cash box, where is the lemonade?" She proceeded to remove the lid and reveal two 4 o.z containers of lemonade resting in a nest of dollar bills and quarters. I recognized the juice containers. They were the sort that came up each day with each child's lunch and dinner tray. Clearly Miss Priss had been stashing her juice containers for the last several days. Unable to resist, I went to break room and brought out my only cash, a ten dollar bill. After much persuading I convinced her to count out seven of her dollar bills to give me change for my ten. I assured her that she really was making quite the killing, getting paid three dollars for a box of juice that she had received freely. After completing her sale Miss Priss packed up her box and moved on to her next victim. I watched as she walked between her room and the nurses' station refilling her container with lemonades and moving from person to person selling them.

I couldn't help but sit back and smile, truly blessed in the moment by the beautiful scene before me. Miss Priss is a child. She may be a hospitalized, chronically ill child, but she is still a child, wanting nothing more but to have fun selling lemonade on a warm summer day. Maybe her lemonade is sold out of a box of wipes instead of a homemade stand, and maybe her lemonade came up on a hospital dinner tray instead of from a "Country Time" lemonade mix, but still her gapped tooth grin and rounded cheeks win the hearts of any passer by, just as they would were she stationed on a curbside.

I am so happy for this glimpse of normalcy that I caught today is Miss Priss' life. It was so good to know that we (the nurses, doctors, and hospital staff) have not chased all of the childhood beauty out of her. We may poke her for IVs, subject her to nauseating medications, and wake her up every four hours for vital signs, but still she remains a wide eyed curious child ready to experience the world and all of the fun it has to offer.