Thursday sees me in the hospital for my total thyroidectomy. It's the first time I'll have something taken out of my body. It's NOT, however, the first time I've seen the inside of an operating room. That is something I'm all too familiar with. It's just that I've always only been "modified"... not so drastically changed that a piece of me will be gone forever. It's a strange feeling.
I'm not trying to be a pussy about it. I'll go in strong and brave, hiding my fears if they sneak up on me, as I always do. I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll have Thor at my side. How could I not be fine? Wish me luck and say a little prayer for me that I make it through it all ok.
On a totally different note, this morning I walked my son to school, because it's "Walk to School Week", and seeing as how I wasn't in a rush to get foster-guy to his day program, we walked. On the way back, I see this tiny little girl running toward me, just about in front of my house. She had no other people with her, not a soul. She was barefoot, no socks, shoes or coat. Just some little pink monkey pajamas and her jet black hair all twisted in little free roaming braids, no older than 2 years old. She had tiny little gold hoop earrings in. And she had the look of horror in her eyes and huge tears streaming down her little cheeks.
I stopped her and asked her where her mommy and daddy were. All she could do was continue to cry and panic. I asked her if she was lost. She squeaked out a "yes". Without any further hesitation, I scooped the little tiny doll into my arms, away from the threats of kidnappers and traffic, bundled her up on my couch and dialed 911. To my surprise, I had to wait on hold for a few minutes, but when I did get through, I talked to a Constable and he said he was on his way right over. In the meantime, I found an old pair of Thanan's socks to give her, and a small vest I had stored away in a baby clothes box, and I searched for some tiny boots and a small enough coat. I offered her a white teddy bear with a pink ribbon to take her fears away. She gratefully clung to him, and named him "Teddy". She eventually stopped crying and was able to tell me her first name. Alima. And she was African American. And I knew of one family, who's daughter was in my lunch room last year where I supervised, but I wasn't sure where they lived. It was close by though, I figured. So I held onto the little tiny girl, all bundled up and shivering, and we watched Max and Ruby on Teletoon until the Constable arrived. Then we put Alima and my foster-guy in my car and had a police escort to the general area where I thought the little girl lived. As I parked, her mother came flying down the street. A complete mess and frantic; a neighbour literally holding her up. She got to my feet as I said "She's ok, I found her... it's all going to be ok now, she's safe..." the woman fell to my feet screaming to the Lord all high praise before she fell backwards as if she was going to faint. I kept Alima in my arms, and said to the police officer "She's in shock... we need to help her!" Little Alima stuck to me like glue, crying again because of fear for what was now happening to her mom. We got the mother into the garage where she propped herself up and refused an ambulance. It was about then that the father showed up and they exchanged words in their native tongue, then he introduced himself to the officer, and then grabbed me and hugged me so hard I thought my head was going to pop off, while saying "God Bless your soul, thank you, thank you!!" I nearly fell over, myself, when he finally let go.
Finally, all was calm, numbers and names were given, the child was back with her family and I was coming off the adrenalin high. I'm proud of how I handled the situation. I remained completely calm and flawless. And I felt amazing for keeping that little baby girl safe until we could get her home. It made me think about the old days when there were block parents. I'm going to look into that when I'm feeling better. Whatever happened to that?
The woman, upon being questioned for her name, said that she didn't want any trouble to come of this. That statement made me nervous. Last year when I supervised at the school, her older daughter told me they were from Africa. I know that child social services will be called and I have no doubt that they are a loving and beautiful family. I just hope that they are legally allowed to be in Canada and that this doesn't cause some sort of immigration trouble for them. I couldn't really figure out why the mom hadn't reported her daughter's disappearance immediately to the police. She never did call it in.
Well, whatever happens next happens and it's not anything to do with me. I just needed to make sure the little girl was safe and returned to her family.
Quite a dramatic morning.