La Revedere, Celine

As many of you know, I had hoped to bring Celine to the USA for treatment and therapy.  She has spina bifida, and I had located a doctor at St. Christopher's Hospital for Children in Philadelphia who was willing to work for free or for a greatly reduced rate.

You may also recall that Larisa, Celine's mother, was initially enthusiastic about the idea, but chilled considerably after her Cold Warrior grandmother went to work on her, telling her not to trust "filthy Americans," and after the rest of the family convinced her that they would help her get Celine the care she needed right in Romania.  Never mind that all these people had ignored Celine's very existence for the entire three years she's been alive; now they are going to take care of everything, in a country that has little to offer a child in Celine's condition.

Larisa had taken Celine to Bucharest for more tests on April 4th (something that wasn't even contemplated until I said I'd pay for everything).  We hadn't heard anything about Celine since then, and with the Tutova clinic now closed, we were all anxious to learn where she was, whether she had gone home with Larisa or to a CPS facility, etc., so I asked Mihaela to call Larisa.

Mihaela did call her today, and Larisa said that Celine was home with her, where Larisa lives with her grandparents and some cousins, and that she was keeping her home and would take care of everything herself.  

Mihaela said Larisa made it clear that she didn't want help from any of us, and that Larisa was practically rude.  This is such a drastic turn-about from when Larisa and I first talked, when she was warm, cheerful, and enthusiastic.

I am heartbroken.  I love that kid, and it's really hard to know that I will likely never hear anything about Celine.  Please pray that she does well, and that her mother can give her everything she deserves.

 La Revedere, Celine.

Ana Maria and Gabriella, the twins

I spent the morning in the newborn room, with Delia Ayana and twins Ana Maria and Gabriella.  My colleague and I also convinced the nurses to let us bring Denisa and Raul in, too, so we had five babies, but with four of them newborns, it was very quiet.

We had some fun posing the newborns, Delia Ayana, Denisa, Ana-Maria, and Gabriella:

Dr. Romeo told us that the twin's parents have signed them over to CPS (Child Protective Services), so they will be going into foster care as soon as a foster family can be found.  Apparently their parents have six small children at home already and can't afford to raise two more.

You might wonder why the twins won't be put up for adoption.  They are beautiful, perfect babies with no known health issues, so they would seem to be highly adoptable.   And in the USA they would be, but Romania's adoption laws make it very difficult.  Not only does the consent of the parents have to be gained, so does the consent of the grandparents, aunts, uncles, adult siblings and perhaps others (I wasn't clear on the details).

I guess they'll stay here in the hospital until a foster family is found, though I am not sure if that is true, since this is an acute care hospital and they don't require any special treatment.

It's also very difficult to find foster parents these days, since the Romanian government cut their salaries by 25% back  in January.  (Foster parents don't receive a per diem, like in the USA; here, they are government employees, with benefits, and eligible for a pension.  But the pay is very low, and some people decided it was just too low after a 25% pay cut; some foster parents even turned their children back over to CPS.)

Nadia

I spent quite a bit of time with Nadia today.  (And I have the back-ache to prove it!  Since she was facing the wall, I hunched over the head of her bed, until my colleague Pat Quinn suggested that I pull out the bed and put a chair next to her head so she could see me.  D'oh!  Why didn't I think of that?)

Nadia is such a sad case.  She is like a stick figure, just skin stretched over bones.  She has some awareness of her surroundings, it seems, though I haven't picked up on anything I'd call cognitive ability.  The staff described her as "paralyzed" and epileptic.  I wonder if she doesn't have muscular dystrophy, but as I have told some of you before, in Romania they don't diagnose things down to the molecular level like we do in the United States.  If you're paralyzed, you're paralyzed, and it doesn't much matter if it's cerebral palsy or muscular dystrophy or something else.  They'll just work really hard to keep you comfortable.

I had thought that Nadia might like a lollipop (a popsicle being unheard-of here), and after trying three supermarkets I finally found one in the kiosk right at the hospital gate.  I wet it first, then put it up to her lips until she got the idea and licked it (sort of).  She really liked it, but tired of it after a while.

A couple of the nurses came up to me and said, nu, nu (no, no).  I thought they were telling me not to give it to her, and I was telling them that I'd hold it so she wouldn't choke, and it was such a little bit of sugar it couldn't hurt her, etc., until they said OK.  This happened twice before I realized that they were telling me nu, nu because Nadia won't eat and they thought I was wasting my time.  Once I showed them that she was licking it (sort of), they said, da, da -- meaning, yes, yes, great, she's eating something.  (You might wonder why this child isn't on a feeding tube or IV fluids or something, but remember that Romania is a poor country, and this is the poorest part of a poor country, and these things just aren't possible.)  I am going to bring her another lollipop tomorrow, in another flavor and see how she likes it.

Rauuuuuuuuuuuuuul!

When my friend Jack heard about Raul, the little guy with Epidermolysis Bullosa, he went right out and bought him a Raul Ibanez shirt.  (Jack said he did it because it was just the kind of thing that my brother Bud would have done.  He's right.)

For those of you who don't know, Raul Ibanez plays left field for the Phillies, and whenever he comes out everyone calls "Rauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuul!!!"  So here are a couple of pictures of Romanian Raul in his Philadelphia Raul shirt.  (Note that I didn't put the shirt over his head; I was afraid to try because of his skin being so fragile.  A couple of the aides know how to dress him, very carefully.)

Denisa

I met this little girl today for the first time.  Denisa is about six weeks old, and obviously is going to need some significant surgery.  She might have a cleft palate in addition to the malformed lips and nose.  I didn't have much time for her today, but hope to spend more time with her tomorrow.

Newborns: Delia Ayana and twins Gabriela and Ana Maria

I spent most of today with three newborns:  twins Gabriela and Ana Maria, and Delia Ayana.

Dr. Romeo told me that he believes that Delia's "malformations" were caused by her mother having rubella during the pregnancy.  He also told me that she is otherwise normal, with all her internal organs in perfect working condition.  Dr. Romeo gave me his stethoscope so I could hear how strong and regular her heartbeat is.

Some of the Tutova children were brought to the hospital today, from the home for disabled children:  Ion, Ionut, Alina, and Cristi.  (No word on Celine yet.)  So the rooms that have become sort of the unofficial Tutova rooms were absolutely chaotic, with the children adjusting to another move and my colleagues trying to find enough toys and clothes and shoes for everyone.

But since I was with the newborns, I had a very peaceful day.

At one point in the afternoon, I actually laid down on the bed with a sleeping Delia on my chest and took a nap with the sun streaming in the window and a gentle breeze blowing.  

Why do people always think volunteering here is such a sacrifice?

The Barlad Children's Hospital

We started work today at the Barlad Children's Hospital, and it was really very nice.  The staff could not have been more welcoming.  They are very excited at the idea of having Global Volunteers there to help them, and the director said she would like to make the hospital more like the clinic at Tutova!  That's great news for everyone.

One of the doctors, Dr. Romeo, was especially emphatic about welcoming us.  Through an interpreter, he told a colleague and me that he wanted us all to be friends, and that he would like to take us out for coffee.  In fact, he wanted to go right then and there, but he called the friend he wanted to bring with him but he was unavailable.

Think about this:  a four story hospital . . . without an elevator.  Not one.  Not a single elevator.

In nice weather the children can play outdoors.