Sunday, April 28, 2013

New Day, New Patient

As the temperature reached 106 degrees today in Calcutta, I had another eventful day at work.

It was nice to walk in today and see all of the patients with new white t-shirts on with deep orange pants.  I made my rounds saying good morning to everyone and as I approached Hamit in bed #15, he started to sing!  It was pretty amazing.  He had just had a bath, but his wounds had not yet been dressed, so he didn't have his new white shirt on yet.  He just had a blue and white cloth wrapped around his waist.  He was in such a great mood.  All smiles and singing, I really couldn't believe it.  He was so happy that he was feeling better.  I spent a great deal of time with him.  He really wanted me to massage is arms and back and didn't want me to stop.  I must have massaged him for a good 50 minutes to an hour.  He dozed a little, but as soon as I stopped he rolled to the other side and asked for more.  I was happy to oblige. As it was Sunday, they set up to have the weekly mass.  As mass was about to start, Hamit was singing away!  With the help of Sister Teresina, we got him to quiet down.  I spent most of the mass massaging him.  When the mass was over, the nurse was planning on dressing his bedsore and foot. 

But as soon as mass ended and lunch was about to be served, Philippe, a young volunteer from Chile, showed up with the woman who goes out to find people on the street that need help.  They came in with a young boy, probably 13 or 14 years old.  He was wrapped in a blue plastic tarp when they brought him in in a wheelchair. His hair was very long (I ought it was a girl when I first saw him).  

They immediately took him into the shower room and I went along to help.  He started crying and screaming as soon as they stripped him and started to shave his head and bathe him.  He was missing his left arm.  There was a very small stump that was raw and open and infested with maggots.  I held his right hand and arm to prevent him from interfering with Philippe shaving his head.  One of the sisters also helped along with Sunil.  It took a while to get his head all shaved and his body washed.  After drying him off we put him in a longi (a skirt type garment that many men wear) and walked him into the infirmary for Teresa the nurse to treat and dress the wound where his arm once was.  There was plenty more crying and screaming as she cleaned and tried to extract some of the maggots. She stuffed iodine soaked gauze into the wound (that should draw out the remaining maggots in the next day or so) and bandaged up the wound.  Philippe and I then dressed him and walked him out to his bed #20 (the guy that was previously there died early this morning).  Pilar, the physical therapist from Spain who has been volunteering there for a while fed him lunch, which he was very excited about and certainly quieted down to enjoy.  I left him there with Pilar and Philippe and look forward to seeing how he is doing in the morning.

After that I checked in with Swapan and Hamit before calling it a day, and what a (hot) day it was!

I can't believe that this Saturday will be my last day of work before leaving Calcutta on Sunday.  It's going to be tough to leave these men.

Oh, and an update on my dear friend in Bed #11 - yesterday there were two men who came by that spoke the same language and seemed to get a bunch of information out of him as to where he's from and his family members.  They are going to try to contact his daughter and see if they can find someone that would will willing and able to take care of him.  So after some tears yesterday, he seemed a bit happier today. I do hope someone comes of it.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Hamit

Swapan is still in bed #22 and hasn't been asking to move back to #15 lately.  He's actually been feeling better and we've been putting him in pajamas and sitting him up in a wheelchair and moving him into the second room with the other patients for portions of the day.  The sore on his back continues to get smaller.  I did sneak him a Cadbury candy bar and he was SO happy and thankful.  I had to break it into pieces and carefully put them into his mouth without anyone seeing.  What a smile I got from him, as well as a big, "thank you!"  Made both of our days!

The guy that is currently in bed #15 is in pretty bad shape but does appear to be making some improvements.  His name is Hamit and he's 46 years old.  I was there the day they brought him in more than three weeks ago.  We took off all of this clothes, bathed him and shaved his head and face.   His right foot was wrapped in dirty bandages and he had terrible bed sores on his butt and he screamed in agony when we tried to wash his groin area, where his skin was raw.  We kept the bandage on his foot temporarily until the nurse could take it off and re-dress it, so I had no idea at the time the extent of the problem there...nor with the severity of his bed sores.

We got him into pajamas and into a bed.  I sat with him for about an hour, during which time I clipped his nails and tried to keep his calm.  I could tell he was very appreciative and we've been buddies ever since.

When the nurse finally got around to taking the bandage off of his foot, it was clear how bad it was.  He was missing his big toe and the one next to it.  The wound was so deep you could see the bones of what was left of the two toes.  It was quite gruesome and a few days later I asked the volunteer doctor and veterinarian from Australia when they saw it if they had ever seen anything like it.  The doctor said no, the vet said he had seen something like it with animals.  The nurse packed the wound with what looked like iodine soaked gauze and put antibacterial gel all over it and dressed it.  Then we rolled him over and I got my first real look at the bed sores.  It was truly unbelievable and I don't know how I did it, but I kept watching (I can't even watch when  the nurse at home draws blood from my arm!) as I held his hand and talked to him to try to keep him calm.  The sore was the size of a dinner plate and you could basically see right inside of him.  The nurse cleaned it all out and stuffed gauze into some of the deeper cavities.  She cut away large pieces of skin.  Basically as Lee, a volunteer from the U.K. put it, his entire butt was missing.  

Now, as a few weeks have passed, he's had good days and bad.  His foot is healing rather well.  His bedsores are improving, but there is still a long way to go.  He's often in a lot of pain.  

Sister Teresina came by his bed the other day and made him repeat after her, "Thank you Uncle for taking good care of me.  I love you Uncle!"  He did and smiled and then gave me the Indian head bobble, a sign that all is well.

Today when Hamit saw me he reached out both arms and when I took his hands he pulled me toward him and wrapped his thin arms around me and held me tight.  It's the first time we've hugged and it was an incredible moment.  He did it a few more times during the morning hours.  He asked me to massage his arms and later as he squirmed to find a comfortable position, I gave him a back massage which he loved and actually fell asleep during.

A young Indian guy who has been around volunteering for a few days came over to the bed and started to talk to him.  Come to find out, he pulled a rickshaw for many years and never wore shoes.  I'm guessing that he injured his right foot and it became infected and just got progressively worse.  And I'm assuming the bed sores developed from just laying or sitting on the ground for long periods before the team from Mother Teresa's found him and brought him in.

I hope Hamit will recover and be sent to another facility eventually.  He is just one of the many guys that I will always remember and be thankful to have known.  I'll spend as much time with him as possible in my last two weeks and just hope for the best for him after I leave.  It's really all I can do.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Swapan


One of my favorite guys was in Bed #15 when I arrived here.  I've mentioned him before.  He is paralyzed from the neck down.  His hame is Swapan.  He speaks a few words of English.  When I asked how old he was he said he didn't know exactly, but more than 40 years.  He had gotten TB and went to Mother Teresa's facility Prem Dam and was cured but quickly had a stroke and one arm was paralyzed.  Then he got TB again and went to another facility called Boy's Town where he was again cured of the TB, only to have another stroke and become completely paralyzed.  And now he is at Kalighat at Mother Teresa's home for Destitutes and The Dying.

Bed #15 is the only actual "hospital" bed in the facility.  It's higher and much more comfortable than the other beds (it also has an air mattress).  When I arrived Swapan was in bed #15.  On my first day I helped change him.  He is rather tall, at least 6 feet, his body is complete stretched out and rigid, with the exception of one arm which is bent at the elbow.  Both hands are curled into tight fists.  And at the base of his spine he had an open wound, probably a bed sore.  It was probably six inches long by three inches wide.  It appeared that the epidermis was gone from that area and pink muscle was exposed.  My favorite staff member Sunil and I took great care in changing his sheets and the small towel that covered his mid section.  And the we propped him up with pillows, two under his head, two under one shoulder and one under his legs, all giving him a tilt to which ever side he preferred at the moment.  I'm happy to say that the bed sore has gotten much smaller over the past few weeks.

I stop by his bed many times a day.  He often calls out to me if he sees me passing by with the typical, "Brother."  He often just wants his pillows to be adjusted or switched to the other side.
When it comes time for meals or biscuits I try to be the one to feed him.  In the mornings each patient gets three digestive biscuits.  Swapan needs to have them broken into small pieces and soaked in water to make it easier for him to chew.  I love being able to do this for him.  For meals, I always bring a napkin with me and makes sure he stays nice and clean.  I know he doesn't like to have food all over his bed or face.  Sometimes when I'm not the one to feed him and I pass by I see a big mess, so I take a damp cloth napkin over and clean him up.

Recently Swapan was moved to bed #22 so they could put the guy from bed #12 there as he has a severe foot injury as well as one of the worse bed sores anyone there has ever seen. (I plan do do a post about him as I was there when he was brought in and I've been close with him ever sense).  Swapan was not happy.  But he has been promised that he will be moved back soon.  So I've been spending even more time with him as I know he's down about being in this new bed.  I know he has a mom and dad and a sister, he's counted to ten for me in English and then helped my get through 1-10 in Bengali.  Through the help of Sunil's translation I also found out that he was treated better at Boy's Town.  Sunil had told me earlier that Swapan told him that the night staff here ignores him when he asks for his pillows to be adjusted.  The guy lays in bed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!  If it's going to make him feel even a little bit better to tilt to the other side, why don't they do it?

Well, a pretty good clue came hurling my way when one day I was sitting with Swapan and I hear one of the older staff who has been here for quite some time yell out to me, "he's not sick, he's just paralyzed.  Go help some of the sick people."  Of corse I ignored him, but man was I upset and saddened by it all.

Overall, I think they do a good job with what they and the conditions they are working under.  There is a young doctor from Australia volunteering with us now and he was just curious to know what meds these guys were being given.  He asked the head nun but she refused to share any information and said, "this is not a hospital."  An Indian doctor comes by once a week.  He wears a stethoscope around his neck, but I've never seen him use it.  He takes the small notebook that the sisters keep with information on each patient (or "inmate" as they refer to them) and walks around the room and spends less than a minute with each of them, never touching them and rarely speaking to them.  The sister is giving brief updates along the way.  The Italian woman that is usually in every day that I thought was a doctor is actually a nurse and despite her tough demeanor, I think she is doing a good job.

Back to my pal...

I have been spending more time with him and I leaned over to him to tell him that he was my friend and my name was Jim.  He repeated, "Jim" and a big smile came across his face.  Now everyday I ask him my name and he says, "Jim" followed by that big smile.  What a feeling.

Although he is paralyzed, he likes to have his legs moved.  So I take his right leg first and bend it at the knee and keep pressing it up towards his chest.  He says, "more," and I go further.  After a few more increments he says, "okay," and I put his leg back down and move to the left one.  This leg is much less flexible, but we go through the drill and then repeat both legs again.  That this simple act gives him any sense of comfort or pleasure means so much to me.  He's really the one giving the gift here.

I also massage his hands to try to make his fingers straighten.  And this may sound strange, but I love it when he tells me he has to pee!  I grab a urinal and make sure everything is in the right place and tell him to go for it!  I ask him if he's done and I get a big smile and an "okay."  I empty it and bring it back so it's close by. Another thing that worries me is that when just the night staff is around, I think they ignore all of his calls and he is forced to wet and/or soil the bed and then lay there until the morning.  Sunil showed me a quick and comfortable way to clean him and change his bed.  The first time I changed him on my own, he started saying something to me that I couldn't understand.  I called Sunil over and he translated - "do it nice like Sunil did it yesterday." I said, "of course!"  He was pleased with the results and I got a nice "thank you" and a smile.

Yesterday he was asking for something and I couldn't figure out what he was saying.  I started to go through the list of regular asks...pillow adjustment?  No.  Arm moved?  No.  Legs worked on? No.  I ask him to repeat it one more time and I finally make out the word...chocolate!  He wants me to bring him some chocolate.  I start laughing and tell him I would but we have to keep it a secret.  He was so happy.  Now I have to find some and get it there before it melts and sneak it into his mouth with out anyone seeing me.  I'm up for the challenge! Actually' if I can find a big bag with enough for everyone, I can bring it in and won't have to be so covert.

The last thing he said to me yesterday was "tomorrow last day?"  I said,"No!  I have about three more weeks!"  Again, that beautiful smile.  And I walk away, my heart breaking that I'm not going to be able to do much more than do my best to comfort him for a few weeks more.  But what happens then?  He's probably in his early 40s and will live for quite some time.  I just can't imagine him living out his life there.  He'll probably be transferred to another facility.  Apparently his family has no means of taking care of him.

I'll just enjoy the rest of my time with Swapan and the other men.  I will be a far better person having had the chance to know them, if only for a brief time.  They certainly have enriched my life beyond belief and I will always be grateful to them.


********

Sister Teresina: "Sweetie, you know I like you.  Go get some gloves and come back to me."
I go put on glove and head back to find her.  There she is at a sink stacked with dirty bed pans.

Sister Teresina:  "Wash these good, inside and out.  Are you okay with that?"

Me: " Of course Sister, no problem!"

I just wonder what she asked the person she didn't like to do.

*******

Sister Teresina: "Sweetie, go put on some gloves and meet me at Bed #49"

Me: "Okay Sister, I'll be right there."

Sister Teresina: "Bring a basin with water."

I grab a basin a fill it 2/3 with water and head back.

Sister Teresina: "Hurry!  Put it under here."

She has inserted a tube up the nose of the man in bed #49.  He's a very sweet manwho loves arm and hand massages.  You get the great Indian head bobble when he's pleased with your work.  His belly is so swollen he looks like he's nine months pregnant.  As soon as I get the basin in place a caramel color liquid starts coming out of his nose and emptying into the basin.  Sister asks me to gently rub his stomach.  So I'm squatting net to the bed holding the basin and rubbing his belly.  This goes on for about twenty minutes.  Then Sister tells me to empty the basin and she attaches a small plastic bag at the end of the hose to collect the fluid that is still coming out.

Sister isn't done with me yet!  And remember, she really likes me!

When I come back from emptying the basin she asks me to help turn him on his side.  He needs an enema.  Okay, I can deal with that...but I already know this poor man has probably some of the worse hemorrhoids anyone has ever had.  They are just massive and EXTREMELY painful.  I've changed this guy a few times so I know this isn't going to be pretty.  We roll him over and he immediately starts to protest.  Sister takes the first attempt at inserting the enema.  Now this enema isn't like the are back home.  Basically the fluid is in a bag and you attach a large syringe to the bag to fill it up, then you take the syringe and attach it to what is basically a flimsy drinking straw.  Sister doesn't have much luck so she asks me to take over.  I'm working it as best as I can but it's difficult to even find the targeted point of entry.  I think I have it in and the straw starts bending and sliding out.  I do manage to get it in and Sister plunges the large syringe and he first portion is in.  The she takes over fighting with the straw and tells me to refill the syringe and inject the second and last portion of the fluid.  Meanwhile the poor guy is moaning in pain.  But it's now over and there will be a big mess to clean up soon.  Sister did not call me over for that and the next time I passed by he was lying peacefully in all new clean clothes and sheets.  I guess there is somebody she like a little less than me... or is it a little more? 


Thursday, April 4, 2013

My Easter in India


I had a very interesting Easter this year.

It all started mid-week last week when Rangit, one of the young men (I'd say he's around 30 years old) that is on staff where I volunteer invited me to come to his house on Sunday for a meal with his family.   Now, I've been around long enough to know not to accept invitations from strangers to come to their home (especially in certain parts of the world).  But I had been working along side this guy for about two weeks and I was going to be working with him until early May, so I let my guard down and accepted his invitation.  At the time he didn't provide any additional details, just the initial invite.

Fast forward to Friday and I see him at work in the morning and we say hello as always and I dove right into my work.  Before I knew it it was noon and the morning shift was over.  As I do every day, I went upstairs, got my bag and headed back to my apartment for lunch.  I returned at 3pm for the afternoon shift and after a while I realized the Rangit wasn't around.  So I asked one of his co-workers Sunil and he said he was off now until Monday.  Hmmm, I have no way of contacting him and no details about Sunday.  Sunil tells me he lives in the house right next door to him and that it is an hour bus ride from where we work.

So now I'm really baffled.  No plan to meet, no directions and he wasn't expected back at work until Monday.  So I tell this to Sunil and ask him to apologize to Rangit if he sees him, but that there must have been a misunderstanding (by the way, Rangit doesn't speak very much English and when he does speak in English it usually takes me asking him to repeat himself about three times before I understand what he's saying) and that I apologize and I would just be showing up for work on Sunday as I normally would.

Now it's Easter Sunday morning and I make my way to work before 8am and start washing clothes.  As a few more volunteers begin to trickle in, I take a big basket of freshly hand-washed sheets and clothes up the three flights to the roof top for hanging on the line to dry.  About 10 minutes go by and out of no where, between the newly hung wet clothes, Rangit pops out at me!  He's all dressed up in long gray pants and a gray button down shirt and sandals.  He asked me where I had been!  He said he had been out in front of Mother Teresa's since 7am waiting for me.  Huh?  Why would I know that and why didn't we see each other when I came in shortly before 8am?  There is only one way to get into and out of the building (I was thinking recently about the fire escape plan...but I'm guessing they don't have one...I better ask!).

So he hustles me out of there asking me to try not to let the sisters see me and not to tell them where I am going if they do.  Interesting.  So I grab my bag and slip out virtually unnoticed.  We start walking briskly to the main road.  It's there that we will catch a bus for the hour-long journey.  We start walking in the direction we need to go and after about 10 minutes he yells, "Brother, here comes the bus!  And like all buses in Calcutta, it came barreling down the street towards us and he gives a little wave.  The bus begins to slow down and before you know it you start running along side and then jump into the open doorway and up the three steps.  It never stopped moving.  The bus is crowded, but not packed although every seat is taken.  As people get off some quickly maneuver into the now vacant spot.  I pass on my first few opportunities to sit down when my host says to me, "Brother, you should sit, it's a long journey to my house."  So I take the next seat that becomes available.

As I look out the window I realize how lush and green it has become.  Coconut and banana trees everywhere.  But we are still passing through throngs of vehicles and people as well as the extension of the Metro (subway). So it's extremely noisy and dusty.  After about 15 minutes into the journey the bus comes to a screeching halt and then slowly moves to the side of the road.  It has broken down.  After a few minutes Rangit gets up and jumps off the bus to take a closer look.  I sit, waiting.  He jumps back on and motions for me to follow him off the bus.  We walk a few feet ahead and stand in the 100+ heat, the sun beating down on us.  It's only about 8:45am.  Another bus pulls up and we jump on.  No seat this time, it's full.  We ride along for about 20 minutes and then he motions to me and we jump off as it slows down.  The street is narrow and packed with honking two-way traffic, buses, cabs, motorcycles, rickshaws, people carrying huge loads on their heads, carts, bicycles, tuk-tuk's and more.

We start walking along the side of the road, the sidewalks are way too congested to maneuver.  I'm thinking we must be very close to his home now.  All of the sudden we stop and he waves down a tuk-tuk (a three-wheeled motorized vehicle with no doors that would comfortable seat four people, including the driver).  There are three people already in the back seat and two in the front (one of which is the driver).  Rangit motions me to jump into the front as he squeezes into the back.  But before I could move a zaftig lady in a beautiful sari jumps into the seat and a guy she is with runs around to the other side and squeezes himself into the back seat.  So there are now five people in the back and three in the front.  My friend says something to the driver in Hindi and the lady in the sari slides in a bit exposing a tiny fraction of the front seat and they motion for me to jump on.  What!?  Okay, so I jump in and cosy up to the lady in the sari as much as possible...but only one of my butt cheeks is on the seat!  The other cheek is hanging out the side of the vehicle.  And we're off!  I am grasping a handle with one hand and a bar on the roof with the other and I'm literally hanging on for dear life!  I'm even hooking my right shoulder blade on to the seat behind me, using every ounce of strength to hold on and not fall out.  We are buzzing along at a fast pace, passing cars, honking away.  I need to talk a deep breathe and hope for the best as the left side of my exposed body comes inches away from everything we pass.  It's harrowing, but at the same time absolutely thrilling.  It did cross my mind that people could talk about what a great way it was for me to go if I hadn't have made it!

I was praying we would stop soon... when we finally did I popped out of the side of the tuk-tuk like a cork.  I was so happy!

There is a facility out there run by The Missionaries of Charity as well as a drug rehab at the place we've stopped.  We walked down the road, squeezed through a locked gate, passed the rehab building, a grotto that Mother Teresa herself had built out there and then came upon a cluster of small homes surrounded by trees and fields, actually a very peaceful place.  From around a tall bunch of grass came running the most adorable little boy yelling, "Uncle! Uncle!"  And then an attractive young woman in a sari with a bright smile appeared. They were Rangit's wife and 3-1/2 year old son.  They welcomed me warmly and lead me into their house.  I took off my shoes and entered what appeared to be a two room building, but they only lived in one of the rooms.  Come to find out they were just temporarily staying with neighbors in one room in their house.

The room was small, probably half the size of my living room back home.  A majority of it was taken up by a large platform bed.  They asked me to sit up on the bed and offered me water with sugar in it.  It was very refreshing after such a crazy journey.  Rangit's father now appeared.  A short, slender man with wire rim glasses.  He spoke English rather well, as did Rangit's wife.  All four of them share this single room.

Next came small, round donuts (sweet and delicious) followed by cucumber spears with salt.  The little boy and I were up on the bed playing with a tiny broken truck and a pair of broken toy binoculars.  The father stood and chatted away while the wife prepared lunch.  She was cooking right there in the same room, at the foot of the bed.  And then Ragit sat on the floor next to the bed and sliced more cucumbers and onions.  The father asked me to come outside.  So I jumped off the bed and followed.  He took me around back to show me where his house once stood.  It was so damaged by falling coconuts and wind and rain durning the last monsoon season that he'd decided to tear it down and build a new house a few feet away, just changing the positioning.  The new house was there, partially complete... he took me inside.  By now Rangit's, his wife and son had joined us.  There was just a shell of a building made of bricks.  It still needed windows, doors, floors, etc.

And then it started.   First the father, the Rangit and finally, even the wife.  They have no money to finish the house.  If I could help them it would be greatly appreciated.  The father even said that God would look favorably on me if I helped them finish their house. He tells me he is disabled (and shows me both of his legs, they look fine to me).  Ragit and his wife complained that Mother Teresa's didn't pay him well.  It went on and on.  I was uncomfortable, to say the least. But more than that, I was sad that it turned into this and it wasn't an invitation out of kindness but really a ploy to get money out of me.  It was a real disappointment.

Later I find out that Ragit thought it was my last day so I'm assuming he thought he could guilt me into giving him money before I left.  I told him he was mistaken, that I would be there until May 3rd.  I could tell he was surprised and felt awkward.

We went back to the temporary house for the meal.  The wife spread newspapers on the bed and set out a large plate of white rice and three smaller dishes, one with fish curry, sone with chicken curry and one a salad of cucumbers, onions and peppers.  She then says, "Eat, Brother."

Am I the only one eating??  The father comes in and starts to change his clothes.  He tells me he got a call and has to leave.  He insists on taking my mailing address and email address and promises to contact me so I can help him with his house.

Rangit sits on the floor and his wife now gives him some food.  She and the little boy will eat later.
So I sit on their bed and eat.  The food is actually very good.  But it is awkward as now no one is talking.  We finish and Rangit climbs up onto the bed and lies down and starts watching videos on his tiny cell phone.  The kid climbs up and he and I play with his broken truck.  Finally the wife speaks to him in Hindi and I can tell they are figuring out the best way to get me back.  He will walk me back to the main road and wait with me until the bus comes.  Great.  I jump off the bed and thank her for a great meal, say goodbye to the kid and head for my shoes.  Rangit and I walk back to the road saying very little.  As we approach the road he asks if I can help.  I remind him that I don't have a job so I will not be able to help him, but if after I return and get a job, I would try... and not feeling too bad knowing I would not be sending him any money.  He asks me again not to tell the Sisters that I had gone to his house or that he had asked me for money.  I told him I would not.  Thankfully as we hit the road a bus appeared and I jumped on and had an uneventful ride back to Kalighat.

Since I didn't have enough time to go home for lunch before the afternoon shift, I decided to visit the Kali Temple.  I hadn't been since my last trip to Calcutta in 2010.  Once inside I was approached by a "priest" who took me too a bench so I could remove my shoes.  He washed my hands with "water from the holy Ganges," and started taking me through the temple.  It was an off time, so no goats were being sacrificed and you couldn't even see the image of Kali as the doors were closed.  But he took me around stopping here and there for an offering of flowers, prayers for my family members, for me to find a nice girlfriend (ha!) and promises that I would return to the temple.  He blessed me with an orange dot on my forehead and before I knew it I was back on the street.  I went next door to Mother Teresa's for the afternoon shift.

Since it was Easter, there were all new clothes for the patients (they refer to them as inmates, but I think that's weird, so I call them patients) and new sheets.  The guys were in brightly colored solid t-shirts and multi-colored striped or checked pants and the sheets were bright orange with white daisies.  The entire room was so much more cheerful and happy.  The guys seemed to be in better moods.  Then they brought out small cups of vanilla ice cream which was a huge treat for them.  One of my favorite guys is in Bed #15.  He is paralyzed from the neck down.  I try to feed him as often as I can and spend as much time with him as possible (I will write a post on him soon).  He was so thrilled with the ice cream and it was a joy to feed it to him.  He gave me a huge smile that made my day.

So that was pretty much my Easter this year.  One I won't soon forget.

Go to my Facebook page to see some photos from the day.