You Can Do Anything
(
By Tina Karratti)

Many years ago, my dad was diagnosed with a terminal
heart condition. He was put on permanent disability and
was unable to work at a steady job. He would be fine for
quite a while, but would then fall suddenly ill and have to
be admitted to the hospital.
He wanted to do something to keep himself busy, so he
decided to volunteer at the local children's hospital. My
dad loved kids. It was the perfect job for him. He ended
up working with the terminally and critically ill children.
He would talk to them and play with them and do arts and
crafts with them. Sometimes, he would lose one of his
kids. In certain instances, he would tell the grieving
parents of these children that he would soon be with their
child in heaven and that he would take care of them until
they got there. He would also ask the parent if there was
a message they would like to send with him for their child.
My dad's assurances seemed to help parents with their
grieving. One of his kids was a girl who had been admitted
with a rare disease that paralyzed her from the neck down.
I don't know the name of the disease or what the prognosis
usually is, but I do know that it was very sad for a girl
around eight or nine years old. She couldn't do anything,
and she was very depressed. My dad decided to try to help
her. He started visiting her in her room, bringing paints,
brushes and paper. He stood the paper up against a
backing, put the paintbrush in his mouth and began to
paint. He didn't use his hands at all. Only his head
would move. He would visit her whenever he could and paint
for her. All the while he would tell her, "See, you can do
anything you set your mind to."
Eventually, she began to paint using her mouth, and
she and my dad became friends. Soon after, the little girl
was discharged because the doctors felt there was nothing
else they could do for her. My dad also left the
children's hospital for a little while because he became
ill. Sometime later after my dad had recovered and
returned to work, he was at the volunteer counter in the
lobby of the hospital. He noticed the front doors open.
In came the little girl who had been paralyzed, only this
time she was walking. She ran straight over to my dad and
hugged him really tight. She gave my dad a picture she had
done using her hands. At the bottom it read, "Thank you
for helping me walk."
My dad would cry every time he told us this story and
so would we. He would say sometimes love is more powerful
than doctors, and my dad -- who died just a few months after
the little girl gave him the picture -- loved every single
child in that hospital.
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