I biked to class today in a green and gold gown, trying to keep its flowing sleeves tucked into my backpack straps so they wouldn’t fly out like streamers on either side. I hadn’t dressed up for Halloween since I was a young child, and although I felt a thrill of excitement at doing so once again, I didn’t want to draw much more attention to myself than I already did pedaling down the rain-washed paths in medieval costume.
I had spent the evening before scrambling to hem my dress that it wouldn’t bunch up around my feet like an accordion; as I’m on the shorter side, I wasn’t surprised when my costume arrived with the skirt nine inches too long. After a last-minute trip to the fabric store to buy needles, and thread, I set to work, thankful that my mom had taught me how to hem by hand when I was younger (as my jeans and slacks never seemed to be the right length either, I had a decent amount of hemming practice growing up).
Our lecture on thyroid cancer was made memorable by a bunch of bananas sitting in front of me…
…and I had fun seeing the various costumed characters scattered throughout the medical school. None of us dressed up as doctors, though; it’s as if there’s an unspoken agreement among medical students that wearing a white coat no longer counts as a Halloween costume.
Truth be told, the white coat still feels like a costume at times.
Some costumes you grow out of…others you grow into.
After snatching an hour of studying post-class, several of us went to the Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital (LPCH) to help give candy to the parade of children trick-or-treating in its halls. Every Halloween, the children’s hospital transforms into a kaleidoscope of candy-filled tables, brightly costumed children, and creatively dressed staff.
When I reached the children’s hospital, it was like stepping into the pages of a book. I glimpsed Glinda the Good Witch’s billowing pink skirts as we headed towards the stairs and caught sight of bone-printed socks peeking out from someone’s blue scrubs. Children swarmed the halls, dressed as ninjas and fairies, pirates and skeletons, superheroes, princesses, and animals. Not surprisingly, there were many girls in blue gowns with white braids, snowflakes and sparkles.
Some of my favorite moments were seeing the little babies—the ones only a few months old—cradled in their parents’ arms. These moments were both bitter and sweet, but the sweetness of seeing the little ones in their tiny costumes and sensing their parents’ love for them outweighed the pang. For this moment, at least, these kids could be kids.
As things began to wind down, my friends decided to make a last-minute stop at the Haunted House on the first floor. I tagged along and brought up the rear as we slipped through a door into a black-lined room swirling with eerie lights and little ghosts swooping around the ceiling. I have no idea what purpose this room actually serves in everyday life, but at this moment it was a dark cavern echoing with ghostly sounds. A ghoul slipped from the wrinkled walls behind me, and I squeezed closer to my classmates. LPCH had done well.
Looking back, I think what struck me most about today was seeing how much life filled the children’s hospital this afternoon. To me, it really was like stepping through a doorway into a magical realm. All the effort the staff and volunteers put into making this day as exciting and normal as possible for the children touched me.
It also reminded me how many people are living extraordinary lives. To the parents of the children here, to the children whose lives are anything but ordinary, I am in awe of you.