a world overlooked

Martin Luther King Jr. once said “An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” How fortunate for some to live in a world where there is no illness and no pain. Have we forgotten there are children in hospital who believe there is no hope? Have we buried ourselves so deeply in our own selfish routine, we have yet to acknowledge such a life even exists?

I must admit, there was something missing from my life four months ago, a void probably attributed to the fact that I have been a victim of selfish intent for some time now. In order to fill that emptiness, I vowed that I would give myself to an organization in much need. I became a volunteer for Radio Lollipop located within the Miami Children’s Hospital. Radio Lollipop is a fully-equipped in-house radio station where volunteers involve patients in recreational activities connected to radio programs that are child-focused, and packed with mentally stimulating fun and games, with the chance to be an on-air DJ and take part in the radio station.

I was instantly captivated my first day as a volunteer. I did not know what to expect, but I knew that if I opened my mind and my heart, nothing but positive feelings could surround me. I met such amazing people; volunteers that were so willing to guide me through my first experience. My first evening began with pairing off volunteers into certain units of the hospital; we went into patients’ rooms, passed out the activity, played and talked with them and their families, and came back around to collect their creative masterpiece towards the end of the show in hopes they would win a prize. Each room was different, each patient unique. Some were so willing and excited to participate, some wanted nothing to do with us. Some truly appeared normal and even seemingly healthy, while others pained me so much to look at. After each room and each experience, I had to take a moment and reflect on the things I saw and heard, but I had to shake off whatever feelings I felt so that the next room would be just as motivating as the one thereafter.

That was the day I happily took on my second job...


Last night I was assigned to the oncology unit. You know, finding out that a grandparent, father, friend, or even colleague that has been diagnosed with cancer is hard enough - but think of the mere child that has lived in this unit for the greater portion of his young nine years and knows nothing else but the cold halogen lighting in his white washed room, and is so immune to the stale, yet crisp, air that bites his nose. This is a child diagnosed with cancer, one who has lived here, studied here, celebrated and mourned here; he has befriended the nurses, doctors, fellow patients even, and has watched them come in and out of his room that has been the substitute for his life - frigid and hallow. Yet when I volunteer, I sense my perception is all wrong, a dreaded fear I have had in the hopes I would never have to suffer the same fate. These children stay so positive throughout their treatments and pain, sustain their anxiety from the distance from their family and friends, and anticipate the thought of one day playing outside again.

It keeps me positive and hopeful.

It keeps me humbled.

It keeps me sane.

After being a volunteer for some time now, still nothing ceases to surprise me. Every day is still the first day for me. I have risen above the narrow confines of our society, and have started living for the moments these children will never forget.