Eeyore, where?

One sunny summer day a few months ago, all of us were at the hospital for numerous medical  appointments and a blood draw.  I was feeling a full dose of disappointment over all that had happened since Ellie's surgery.   Things seemed so much worse to me than they had been prior to surgery.  I wanted to scream and kick and cry and take back my decision to have the surgery. 

If I recall correctly, I had met with the dietitian that day to discuss Ellie's weight gain.   And when we weighed Ellie, I believe she had gained another couple of pounds.  Leaving me feeling SUPER CRAZY.  (This was the dietitian who at one visit while Ellie was eating a chocolate cupcake asked Thom, "So how many cupcakes does she eat a day?"  I was livid when Thom told me this because seriously how many freakin' cupcakes would I have to feed her for her to gain 20 pounds in 2 months.  {No, I haven't let that one go, yet, still workin' on it.} After our experience with Ellie, I know that I have no idea why or how anyone else's body looks the way it does, I just don't.)

But I digress, Ellie, Ben & I walked up to the elevator, me dragging around a major grumpy attitude.  Ellie looked up and said, "Hey, there's Eeyore."  Well, there standing before us was a man holding a balloon (I assumed the father), a woman (I assumed the mother) and a probably 15-year-old teenager (I assumed the daughter).  It looked as thought the girl had been in some kind of accident, her face was very bruised and bandaged and it did not appear that she could speak.  I thought for a moment how having something happen to your face would be hard for a woman at any age, but being a teenager would be especially hard.  I thought of how this might have been a sudden thing that happened and that this family might be sharing that feeling of disappointment over whatever it was that had happened to their daughter.  The father in particular had that giddy look you only get after being released from the hospital after an extended stay.  He looked around questioningly at Ellie's statement about Eeyore, until he realized that Ellie was referring to the balloon he was holding in his hand.  

The elevator arrived and we all stepped in together to ride down to the parking garage.  The teen-aged girl grabbed the string of the balloon and began to push it towards Ellie.  Her mom asked, "Are you sure?"  And the girl nodded "yes" vehemently.   I was so touched that someone who was facing such pain could still in the face of that reach out to another child and give what she had to give.  I looked her straight in the eyes and told her, "Thank you" because I wanted her to know that I could still see HER. 

My sister commented recently how it is amazing that so many people would look at us and feel sorry for us, but we are out in the world having "real human experiences".  She didn't think it was at all necessary to feel sorry for us because these amazing opportunities unfold before us all of the time.  I have to agree we are pretty fortunate.