A Lesson from Steve, the Front Desk Guy

I don't know his name, but I'll call him Steve for now.  Steve is one of the heroes that I referred to in my last post, one of the reasons that four weeks in two children's hospitals renewed my faith in humankind.  Steve manages the admissions front desk at Lucile Packard Children's hospital.

Two or three times a day Lisa would sit near Steve's desk that was just off the lobby as she waited for me to bring the car from the parking lot to the unloading zone just outside the entry to the hospital (I tried my best to allow her some time to recover from labor and delivery by not having her make the trek to the car every time we left the hospital.  Lisa and Steve became casual friends and, at a minimum, would exchange friendly gestures, and would often lightly converse, as she waited for me.

One night, she overheard Steve talking to a security guard stationed nearby.  The following is Lisa's recollection of that conversation (and her first post, by the way, on the blog!):

"I got in trouble last night," Steve told the guard.

"What'd you do this time?" the guard asked.

"I was late . . . Then I had to suction her out."

I thought to myself, what in the world?  He also suctions people at the hospital?  Economic hard times must have hit the hospital as well if they're asking their front desk people to suction patients!


I so was so curious about him suctioning people that I butted into the conversation: "You suction people out too?" I asked.

"Yeah, my girlfriend," Steve said with a curious smile.

His girlfriend is in the hospital and he suctions her out???  

He stepped forward, flipped open his phone and showed me her picture, which was the wallpaper on his screen.  Steve's girlfriend was four. A precious dark haired four year old.

He explained that this little girl was in the hospital for hospice care--she was sent to the hospital to receive care while she slowly died.  If her age didn't make the subject of death hard enough to swallow, the following fact made the thought almost unbearable. For reasons that Steve refused to judge, his "girlfriend's" parents were only able to visit for an hour every few months.  Steve saw a need.

Steve learned about this girl's situation because of his duties at the front desk, and he quickly took an interest in her.  He decided to undergo training to serve as a volunteer (after-hours and unpaid) to spend time with his  girlfriend and lessen her burden.  Part of his training was to learn how to suction, something that she apparently needed often.  I didn't ask what he was suctioning, but I suspect it has to do with fluid in her lungs.

Apparently, his girlfriend got so worked up about Steve being late (could this be another person who is abandoning me, she might have thought) that the trauma caused her to build up excess fluid somewhere, which is why Steve had to suction her.

Every day Steve spends an hour or more with his girlfriend.  He takes her on walks, reads to her, plays with her, and suctions when necessary.  So after a long day at work, he has his "date" with his girl--a little girl who craves the love and attention of someone like Steve, someone who sacrifices the things of the world to give of himself to a precious child.  His companionship has seemed to prolong not only her life but has given her added energy--enough energy that she is now able to attend the pre-school held at the hospital (something  she couldn't do just a short time ago).

I told him what a blessing it was for him to visit her, to which he replied, "Oh, no, she is the blessing.  I get so much in return from her.  I am the one who is blessed."    

Gordon B. Hinckley said that world continues to grow more evil, but at the same time it continues to grow more righteous at the same time.  He was right. For every bit of evil, there is good.  For every rotten apple, there is a ripe one.  For every self consumed narcissist, there is a Steve. We met lots of Steves on our journey  with Abigail. It reminded that the world is also good.