A Moment of Silence…

We arrived at the hospital, as we usually do for our missions, but that day there was loud screaming and continuous crying. In moments like these, we always feel that it’s our turn to stop the sadness and start the “tour of happiness and laughter.”

We entered the room to put on our special costume. I, Dr. Lahza, along with my colleague Dr. Simsim Abu Ka‘keh, began walking through the rooms visiting the children. But the crying didn’t stop, so we decided to continue to the room whose number is engraved in my memory: Room 3.

When we entered, a nurse greeted us quietly and said, “No one has been able to calm him. I’ve been trying to give him his treatment since morning, but he refuses.”
We replied gently, “Don’t worry,” and gave him a reassuring look and smile.

Inside, I felt a moment of silence, because the child, Kareem, had a challenge—but I won’t reveal it until the end of the story, so you can understand the impact we had on him despite the difficulties. This motivated me to make sure he would be happy and that I wouldn’t leave the room without accomplishing my mission.

We began singing softly:
"These little chicks, how cute they are, walking around their mom happily, not scared at all, whatever they see, their mom is near them and they are joyful…"

Gradually, his screaming began to be lower. As the music grew louder, the crying completely stopped. The music and singing continued, and Kareem started laughing and clapping his hands for the little kids. His mother’s gaze was full of joy and happiness, and we could hear the nurses laughing as they came to see Kareem smiling.

At that moment, the nurse took advantage of the situation and checked Kareem’s temperature. After breaking the barriers with music, we began spreading humor and having gentle conversation with him.

I used the tools I had to increase his engagement. I had a transparent red scarf that I let drift over his hand, floating above and landing on his hair. Kareem was extremely happy and interactive. We asked him questions, made him feel smart and capable, and he “won” every time.

For context, Kareem was blind. He couldn’t see us with his eyes, but he could hear us and perceive us through the music and the interaction we created.

We left the room feeling proud, and I won’t hide from you that tears of joy filled our eyes. We had turned a sad child, unable to see the light, into a happy child, spreading light inside him.