Finding Silver Linings in a Children’s Hospital

“So full of life and love. Now he’s stuck in a bed. God help us.”

Her thoughts drift back six years. She’s disillusioned with life and love after a string of uncaring relationships. Cara decides she deserves better.

“God, show me real love. Please. Real love.”

Soon, she becomes pregnant. As 1997 begins, Cara gives birth on a bright Monday. Is this little boy an answer to prayer? Seems so.

As he grows, she becomes sure.

Years later a nurse will say, “Jerico is so kind and respectful. He’s pure love.”

Pure love.

Cara smiles, again drifting through memories of their short adventurous life together.

Jerico loves people. He gets along with everyone.

“Can I hang out with Jericho?” little neighborhood kids often ask.

They’re welcomed by his kind accepting smile. Everyone is included in his imaginary games. His care and respect spreads among the children.

If only more people are like Jerico. The world will be such a kinder place.

Jerico interrupts Cara’s vivid memories by shifting his body to the left. His elbow almost touches the red call button.

“Don’t hit that button, ” Cara loudly thinks—anticipating the nurses’ relief from a false call.

Yet, if the light does go on, nurses always come running. With smiles and fire in their steps.

Nurses adore Jericho.

All her love and willpower flow toward her sick child. “Sleep. Heal. Let’s beat this thing. God, please.”

Jerico relaxes back into a deep healing sleep.

But Cara is wide awake. Her mind drifts back to the time before they move into this room half-way down the hall.

Her memories drift out unopenable windows, traveling through time across Alberta’s forests. She remembers six months ago like yesterday.

“Mom, let’s go outside!” he used to urgently request.

Her memories are so real, Cara’s heart pounds. The excitement of being outside with Jerico still pulsates within. Her breath quickens as if running and playing with him like before.

“What do you want to do?” she remembers asking.

“The tree. I think they’re having adventures again.”

Soon, they lie side-by-side, grass tickling her neck under the expansive backyard tree. Jerico rests his head on her arm. Gazing up into the tree canopy, they imagine fairy villages on each branch.

Fairy adventure stories fill the air. Good and love always triumph in their treetop tales.

Jericho loves playing outside under rustling tree leaves. He often finds spiders desperately clinging to swaying flowers. His smile lights up cloudy forests when cool raindrops hit his exuberant face.

The two wander on woodland walks. See muddy animal tracks. Kneel for urgent cricket inspections.

On dreary days, they watch droplets roll off red petals and green leaves.

Mom and son are happy.

During these few years, Cara takes moments like this for granted. She believes they have decades together.

But they don’t.

Cara returns from her memories to this dim hospital room. No trees. No dancing. No freedom.

She longs for the return of carefree days.

This eternal longing is a daily ache.

Cara takes her son to one puzzled doctor after another. No one finds a problem.

One advises, “A mother should take care of her son to keep him well.” This doctor, like a few others, can’t find the problem. Instead of taking responsibility for shortcomings, they put the problem to Cara.

As if she’s an unfit mom!

“Why do people assume a young woman is clueless about her child?” Cara silently screams, walking out of his clinic.

Mama bear’s anger wells within, but she keeps it in check. For Jerico’s sake.

Something’s wrong and Cara won’t quit searching. She even tries a dentist in case Jerico’s teeth are the problem. They aren’t.

Not knowing is terrifying.

Why can’t someone find an answer? Even negative news is better than this. At least Cara and Jerico can do something about a bad diagnosis.

Six aggravating, bewildering months crawl by.

“Acute mono.”

A new pediatrician finally finds an answer. Cara’s relief overpowers her worry about the diagnosis. Now they can get this fixed!

Then move on with life.

“Cara, can you make it to an appointment in Calgary tomorrow?”

“Of course, doctor. Anything to heal my son. A three-hour drive is nothing compared to waiting six months for this answer!”

“I’ll make an appointment at Calgary Children’s Hospital for tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll be there!”

“Look at the trees, mom. They’re like giants. They have all the colors.” She hugs him, anticipating their next forest outing.

“Yes, it smells like fall, kiddo. We’ll stay here in the hospital until you’re better. Then we’ll dance under this tree when you leave.”

“I hope it’s soon, mom.”

“I hope it’s sooner!” she adds. They laugh.

Within 10 minutes, Jerico is in Intensive Care with tubes, monitors and a hovering nurse.

Today’s numbers: 10/4/2000 and 180/120. Date and blood pressure.

“I can’t believe he’s still alive!” whispers the nurse. “He could have had a stroke or heart attack with blood pressure that high.”

More tests.

More doctors.

Then one word changes their lives. Forever.

Cancer.

At 26, Cara hears little about cancer in her young life. She’s overwhelmed with shock. And worry. And fear.

Plus, just a tinge of hope on the storm cloud’s edges.

Jerico is special. He has a one-in-a-million childhood cancer.

Neroblastoma grows from immature nerve cells around the adrenal glands, abdomen, or chest. Sometimes the cancer grows on the spine.

In the year 2000, they don’t know how or why some children get this terrible cancer.

Jerico’s tumor is wrapped around his spinal chord. The prognosis is not good.

But Cara will do anything—ANYTHING—for her son. Believing in holistic medicine, she considers traveling to China and investigating alternative therapies.

“I’m sorry, Cara,” cautions the doctor. “Jerico won’t make the trip. The squeezed spinal chord spikes his blood pressure.”

She wants to heal her child. But she can’t. She feels helpless. Sometimes useless.

All she can do is be there for him to shower him with hugs. And thunderstorms of love.

A mother’s love should be able to heal her son!

One day, a friend calls. Cara gives her friend a glimpse of the storm within.

“I’m so frustrated. I want to heal him! I have faith he’ll get better, but fear the opposite. Some days, I’m full of hope. Followed by nights of despair.”

Pain in her friend’s silence connects with Cara’s struggle. Until urgent words break the peace.

“It’ll be OK, Cara. You know there’s always a reason.” The friend tries to stop her own pain by fixing Cara’s.

It doesn’t work.

Cara silently screams so loud, her insides hurt. “I need an ear, not a fix! A friend, not reasons.”

“I suppose,” Cara changes the subject helping her friend feel better. “Hey, what’s the weather like? I haven’t been out. And these windows never open.”

That night, the couch-bed is harder than usual as Cara lies watching her son sleep. In the lonely silence, Cara hears her mom’s favorite saying:

“There’s always a silver lining
in times of tragedy–
whether or not you see it.”

Cara looks around Room 526. It’s too dark. There’s no silver lining.

All she can do is desperately hang onto a thin ray of hope.

She’s beginning her shift. Sensing Cara’s quiet sadness, Sandy stops and looks intently into the mother’s eyes.

“Cara? How are you doing?”

“OK, I guess. Been thinking about life with Jerico before all this.” Cara waves her shaking hand at the card-filled walls and monitors.

A tear floods her eye.

“Happy-sad memories. A little while ago, a friend calls to make it OK. But it’s not. I feel so helpless.”

Sandy sits, leaning toward Cara.

Silence.

After three long minutes and two soft tissues, Cara stands to check on Jerico.

“Thanks a lot for being here, Sandy.”

“No problem, Cara.”

The nurse quietly moves about the room checking monitors and IV bags. She pauses, making notes in his chart.

“So, Sandy, how did things go on your last shift? I was gone to the store.”

“Jerico had a good day, all things considered. But he did it again!”

Cara’s puzzled look brings an explanation. “He called in a nurse massage. He’s so kind and loving. Of course I gave him one. The little rascal!”

“Yeah, my son’s a little loving rascal. Thanks for helping him Sandy. And me. I can count on you to be here for us. And listen.”

“My pleasure. Jerico’s such a delight. Kind. Giving. Loving.”

“Yeah, he’s my shambala.”

“Your what?”

“Shambala is a Tibetan mythical paradise. They say the people are loving, always working for the good of humanity.”

Sandy smiles and leaves. The door quietly closes in on their tiny life.

Cara lays down. This couch is somehow softer now.

Smiling love toward her son, she sinks into sleep.

A light sleep. Just in case.

The morning sun shines hope through snow-encased windows. Last night’s depressing haze melts in its healing rays.

Her eyes shoot open in loving alarm. Arresting her sudden alert, Cara draws in a long breath. Then she quietly replies.

“Good morning, honey.”

Leaving the disheveled brown blanket behind, she dances toward his outstretched hand.

His smile is wider than the giant hospital bed.

Mom lays beside son. She hugs him, passing on strength given by Sandy hours before.

He lays his head on her arm. “I was dreaming,” he says passively, squinting toward the joyful window.

“What about, Jerico?”

“Dancing camping. I want to get out of here and go dancing camping. Come on, Mom, lets go!”

Cara contemplates her choice. Be realistic? Or be relational?

Actually, there’s no choice for Mom.

“Me to, let’s go!” She joins his excited memories. “What do you like best about dancing camping?”

“Dancing in the sand. With you. And friends.“

Jerico reaches for a mini CD player to play his favorite song. Cara turns to look in his shining eyes.

“Let me guess, son. Beautiful Day?”

He smiles as the music begins.

Love emanates from this grin. It chases lingering depression clouds out of Calgary to heal in trees somewhere beyond.

“The heart is a bloom
shoots up through the stony ground”

“That’s the truth…” Cara thinks, captivated by his infectious smile.

“You thought you’d found a friend
to take you out of this place
Someone you could lend a hand
In return for grace.”

Jerico and mom start singing. Almost too loud.

“It’s a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away”

Now four arms wildly wave, wiggling the bed. They’re transported into music festival camping memories.

“Touch me
Take me to that other place
Teach me
I know I’m not a hopeless case.” 

The locked wheels on his medical bed can’t keep them from rolling high on clouds across rainbow breezes.

“See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud…

 And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out…”

Mom and son are carried over a momentary rainbow. It doesn’t matter that they don’t know their future.

Yet, Mama’s intuition feels it coming.

“What you don’t know
you can feel it somehow…
Was a beautiful day”

Wrapped in fading music, they lie side-by-side. His chest quickly rises and falls. Their musical trip leaves them out of breath.

Through clouded eyes, Cara sees Jerico dancing freely on a sunset beach.

Then he raises his left arm, pointing at the clear red-tinged tape. Disappointed, they sigh at the I-V.

“I love you, mom.”

Cara mouths the same, her voice choked deep within.

If only they can:

dance in the sand again…
run in the back yard again…
walk in the woods again…

watch droplets on petals again…
lay under trees again…
live well again…

Jerico’s head lay cradled on Cara’s arm. He feels safe, encircled by this fierce protective love.

Mom’s love.

His small chest rises. Then slowly falls.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until the last time.

Drops of love run down Cara’s cheek. Falling off the petals of her pain, they bathe Jerico’s cheek.

His little face still faintly glows with love.

A last gift from son to mom.

An ocean of love and dying hope waves through Cara.

Word spreads quickly about this little loving boy who changed so many lives in his corner of the world.

Employees emerge from across the hospital. They pass quietly in and out of little Jerico’s 6-month home.

Floors sparkle with tears.

The rest of the night is a forgettable blur.

Cara ends up at her apartment in her comfortable bed.

Somehow.

Physically exhausted.
Mentally overwhelmed.
Spiritually spent.

Emotionally numb.
Soul depleted.
Broken-hearted.

Cara sleeps deep, cocooned in her own caressing sheets. Her head finally rests comfortably cradled in the arms of her quiet soft pillow.

Maybe she’ll sleep forever.

Something hits Mom’s head, interrupting her healing dreams.

She half-opens an eye to see a beautiful little soul. Cara brought this little one into the world two years ago.

“Mama, mama, mama, mama, mama.”

The bottle taps her forehead again.

“Need juice, juice, juice.”

Cara forces her resisting eyelids open. She sees cute chubby cheeks repeating, “Mama, Mama, Mama.”

Cara’s broken heart melts. Energy quickly floods her body.

A clear thought pierces Cara’s blurred mind. “This beautiful little being still deserves everything she was going to get before this tragedy.”

Cara will not sink to the depths of inaction in the foggy sea of sorrow.

Little Willow needs juice.

And so much more.

Inspired by her daughter, Cara crawls out of bed and wills her tired body down the hall.

Taking Willow’s right hand as she toddles along, a light step dances into Mom’s sadness.

Turning left into the sunlit kitchen, Cara pauses in the doorway. A new life chapter is unfolding.

But Mom is divided.

Her memories and exhaustion pull her toward the shaded bedroom to grieve her son. Yet her love for the little girl tugging Mom’s arm pulls Cara forward.

A mental shift is occurring within. Cara’s identity is changing.

She’s more than a mother who is not able to heal her son. She has a daughter to raise.

And a life to live.

Cara tentatively steps into the bright kitchen.

In the coming hours and years, Cara will choose the hard path.

She often pauses under the tree. An empty space aches where Jerico’s head used to lay on her arm.

Grieving tears flow.

Yet, Cara also fixes Willow’s juice, leading her daughter outside. They dance together until collapsing under a tree.

The Tree.

Looking up together, Willow’s head cradles into mom’s arm. Grass forever tickles their necks. Fairy adventure stories are woven of green and brown branches.

The little girl wiggles and giggles. A family tradition.

As Willow grows, Cara is tempted to drown her grief in busyness or addiction. Instead, her focus on Willow helps them both grow and heal.

This is their future.

Together.

She picks up Willow with a big hug. Cara gives the bottle of nourishment, adding a smile of pure love for this little one.

A plate of inviting chocolate chip cookies sits on the counter. She grabs a broken one, somehow appropriate this day. Sweet bitter chocolate awakens her taste buds.

“You’ll get through this,” a handwritten note encourages. “I believe in you! Love, Mom.”

“Thanks, mom,” Cara smiles and whispers to no one in particular. “You’re a silver lining.”

Morning rays pierce the darkest clouds of Cara’s young life. She reaches above the sink.

The old window sticks. Like life sometimes.

But Cara will not remain stuck. She braces her life, both feet solid on the floor. Sheer force of will breaks the window loose with a protesting squeal.

Cara breathes long and deep. Brisk fresh air brightens the lonely stale house, shut up way too long.

Tasting sweet orange flavors, little cheeks stretch into a wide smile. It’s the same family smile Cara remembers with joyful pain from around six last night.

They look out the window together.

A tree beckons. Looking closely, they see hundreds of brown branches waving in fresh breezes.

“See the rainbow fairies hiding in our tree, Willow? They’re calling us for adventures.”

Willow giggles and wiggles a dance in Cara’s arms.

Looking up, Cara sees clouds dance across an infinite blue sky. Tears bathe her eyes with new clarity.

One rascally cloud momentarily covers the sun. On the edges, Cara sees tiny glints of silver.

Hints of eternal hope smile on their future.

Mother and daughter run out the door.

Together.

• Cara becomes a stronger woman through Jerico’s long illness and death.
• She discovers life is serving others. “How did I get through? Taking it away from me to be there for the kids.” In time, Cara goes back to school and helps others as a Medical Massage Therapist.
• Cara appreciates how life works out. Waiting for Jerico’s diagnosis is terrible. But if the inoperable tumor is found earlier, they’d lose six months together at home to live a year in the hospital.
• The ultimate silver lining is reframing Jerico’s short life. Cara now believes Jerico was sent January 6, 1997, to show this world pure love. His memory inspires Cara to spread that love.
• And so, Jerico lives on.

INSPIRE SOMEONE TODAY: SHARE CARA’S STORY

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Tim inspires people/organizations to listen, empathize, and encourage. He's an inspiring speaker, musician and workshop leader. And better skier after a broken leg.