Iraq is loud.
Even in the hospital the noise is overwhelming at times. Cars are honking outside, trying to make their way out or into the already overcrowded parking lot. Rusted oxygen tanks are being rolled down the ward to replenish the cache in the ICU. Hospital gurneys are clamoring their way down the ward, bumping into food carts and abandoned wheelchairs.
Sometimes the best way to communicate is by overpowering all the noise, and, sometimes, it just takes a whisper.
I walked into the ICU today to see this little boy with his daddy. Dr. Sanchez was screening him while his big eyes were glued to the image of his heart pulsing on the echo machine; his dad leaned over the bed whispering words into his ear.
Because of the noise, I can’t tell you what he was saying but I can tell you that it made all the difference for his son.
If this were your son, what would you be whispering in his ear?
What would you tell these kids as they wait to hear if their heart defect is fixable or not?
Let us know—we’ll pass it on!