A career spent caring for children teaches you a great deal about strength, but nothing prepared me for the little boy I met decades ago—a child whose heart needed urgent repair and whose spirit somehow remained gentle despite everything he faced. I still remember how small he looked in his hospital bed, trying to stay brave for everyone around him. His surgery was complex, but it went better than any of us hoped. By morning, his heartbeat was stronger, his breathing steady, and his future finally within reach. But instead of finding relieved parents at his bedside, I walked into a room that felt impossibly empty. His belongings were untouched, his blankets neatly folded, and the only thing left behind was a stuffed dinosaur on the pillow. His parents had quietly signed the discharge forms and disappeared, leaving behind a child who needed comfort just as much as he needed care. That moment changed everything—not only for him, but for the family he would eventually become part of. Continue reading…
