A 3D Laugh…

He was lying on his bed, his face pale and yellowish. In his hand, the needle was delivering the chemotherapy dose into his tired body. His mother sat beside him on a chair, her eyes full of sadness and worry. Yahya—14 years old—was battling cancer. He has no siblings.
Knowing these details before the visit is very important for me; they strengthen my determination to succeed in my mission: to make this sad child feel even a little bit happier, to ease his pain with a smile or a memorable moment. Most importantly, to touch his emotions, so he feels that there are people who love him, people who work just to bring joy to him and to other sick children. 

When we first entered the room, the surprise and confusion were clear on both Yahya’s and his mother’s faces. As soon as we greeted them and started talking, their expressions slowly shifted into small smiles. Still, the questions between them were obvious:  Who are these people? What are they doing here? Why did they come? I didn’t wait for him to ask who I am. I jumped in immediately: “Hello! I’m Doctor Sawsana, and this is my colleague Doctor Fareed—Tanna wa Ranna!” Yahya laughed, and that was the start of the treatment: a dose of laughter. Doctor Fareed is talented in poetry, so we decided he would recite a special poem just for Yahya:  “Yahya, oh Yahya, when I see you, everything becomes more beautiful…Yahya, oh Yahya, God willing you’ll get better and go on a trip…” 

The laughter grew. Little by little, Yahya’s giggles filled the hospital room.  His mother’s laughter grew louder, too. A nurse entered the room to check what was happening, she also got her share of the laughter dose. The more we tried to make them laugh, the more we laughed from the inside and felt like flying. We started playing, playing like excited little children who had just received a new gift.

And that gift was Yahya’s laughter… and his mother’s laughter. For me, as a healthcare clown,I called today’s visit “A 3D Laugh”: Yahya’s laugh, his mother’s laugh, and the nurse’s laugh. It was one of my most special visits, especially when I remembered how pale and exhausted Yahya looked at first, and how he looked when we left:  His face was bright, rosy, and smiling. Thank you, my red nose.