… and complete.

Adahlia was a hero, naturally.

“She’s so serious,” several nurses said at several different times, as Adahlia gravely watched them apply a tourniquet to her arm, or push buttons on the infusion drip.

It’s true.  She can be like a large body of water at night:  very calm, very serious.

“She’s teething, again, too, though,” I said, not sure what else to say, and because they seemed a bit taken aback by such a serious little person.

And because it’s also true.  Teething is no joke.

The IV nurse was amazing (one poke).  The IV never once became occluded and didn’t start beeping until the transfusion was complete (first time).  As it had turned out, Adahlia’s Hb had dropped, but after 5 weeks, the number really wasn’t so bad.  Yes, it definitely qualified for a transfusion, but its been much worse.  All told, it means that she is making red cells.  Her response to anemia is still no where near enough to keep herself alive as her red cells naturally die.  But really, she’s not doing too shabby.

Today, for the first time, a “Musical Rx” volunteer came by.  She walked from bay to bay, with her guitar, taking song requests.  I was walking around the floor with Adahlia in one arm, pushing the IV drip with the other, and we stopped outside a young boy’s bay to listen in on “Amazing Grace.”  The volunteer’s voice was light, playful, and resonant.  She both looked and sounded like a fairy singing… (a fairy in a purple t-shirt with hiking boots, tattoos, and uneven pixie haircut… very Portland).

After singing for the boy and exiting his bay, she turned to us in the hallway and asked us if we had any requests.  We didn’t really have any, but I told her that Adahlia’s father plays guitar for her, and that she really loves it.  After a moment’s deliberation, she sang the following song:

If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea,
I’ll sail the world to find you
If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can’t see,
I’ll be the light to guide you

Find out what we’re made of
When we are called to help our friends in need

You can count on me like 1 2 3
I’ll be there
And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2
And you’ll be there
Cause that’s what friends are supposed to do

If you toss and you turn and you just can’t fall asleep
I’ll sing a song
beside you
And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me
Everyday I will
remind you

Ohh
Find out what we’re made of
When we are called to help our friends in need

You can count on me, like 1 2 3
I’ll be there

And I know when I need it I can count on you, like 4 3 2
You’ll be there
Cause that’s what friends are supposed to do

You’ll always have my shoulder when you cry
I’ll never let go
Never say goodbye

You can count on me like 1 2 3
I’ll be there
And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2
You’ll be there
Cause that’s what friends are supposed to do

you can count on me cuz’ I can count on you

The song is by Bruno Mars.  I have very little exposure to popular culture (I’m just not very interested in it) and it was the first time I had heard it.  It’s called “Count on Me.”

As Adahlia stared transfixed at the guitar, her eyes moving from the frets to the hollow chamber and back, my eyes filled with tears.  I couldn’t help it.  It was the lyrics, summing up how I feel for Adahlia.  Or the sweet, encouraging way the girl sang to Adahlia, her mouth breaking into a smile around the words, a palpable joy and connection forming.  Or it was Adahlia’s complete absorption in the music.   Or maybe it was thinking of all the folks who have really showed up for us and all those who have made a different decision.  I’m not sure.  I wiped the tears away quick but I’m sure the girl noticed, she was just kind enough not to say anything.

After she finished singing an encore of “Three Little Birds,” by Bob Marley, I thanked the musician on behalf of Adahlia and I.

“It was my pleasure,” she beamed, and I could tell she really meant it.  “I’ve never had someone so interested in my guitar.”

Adahlia, you are so special.  I know its been so difficult for you here.  Thank you for accepting everyone’s gifts.  Thank you for touching our lives.