Joy is contagious I caught my 12-year-old patient Jordan holding his head between his hands in the reception area of the hospital. When the debilitating headaches kicked in, he just needed a place to escape. Jordan had a history of childhood leukemia and persistent headaches that required more than his fair share of visits to the hospital. His case is not unlike many of my patients who are young, fragile, and facing serious, sometimes life-threatening diseases. As a physician assistant in pediatric neurosurgery at Children's Hospital of Orange County (CHOC), I provide care to kids with common and rare neurologic conditions including cerebral palsy, brain tumors, and traumatic brain injuries. Practicing in neurosurgery means I see some of the worst things that can possibly take place for a child. In an area of medicine where the stakes are high and the spirits often low, I believe it's important to create an outlet for kids to have fun because laughter and silliness is one of the best doses of medicine I can provide to patients. Many neurology patients often can't move their hands or legs and may be tethered to their beds or wearing a brace. Being celebrated through song and dance brings them much joy and helps to get their minds off their disease. That's why you might catch me in the hospital halls or in a patient's room grooving to a hit song with my little friends. It's become so popular that patients call ahead of their hospital visit to schedule their dance session with me. There's a contagion in showcasing joy, and soon, parents and hospital staff were joining in on the fun. Of course, the novelty of a dancing PA caught traction and soon my special "performances" were publicized on CHOC's social media accounts. The response has been so overwhelming that a few of my videos went viral, and I've had to create separate public profile pages to interact with the thousands of viewers enamored by patients showing off their smiles and moving to the latest hit song. While at times I almost feel like a celebrity, it's the intimate moments with patients that matter the most. My desire to connect with patients through these routines is rooted in my own personal history of relying on music to cope with early harsh realities. I grew up under a single mother in South Central L.A. surrounded by violence and poverty. With two older brothers who fell into the trappings of gang violence, the odds were against me. But through hard work and resiliency, and the support of my wife, I went on to become a soldier in the U.S. Army and then a certified PA. However, some credit is due to my love of performance for steering me away from trouble. The easiest way to cope in a toxic environment was to express myself through dance, and this outlet has a lot to do with why I didn't end up in jail or dead at a young age. Now I use this form of therapy to make kids feel like kids again in their darkest moments. That's why when I think back to the day I saw Jordan slumped over in the reception area, the most impactful thing I could do in that moment was give him a chance to bounce back. So, we danced and sang and shared our dance party with the world. Many CHOC employees, families and friends commended him after viewing the video, and each following day I witnessed a renewed spirit in him. Giving kids an opportunity to laugh, move, and shed some of their inhibitions has so much power to renew and heal the soul. Jordan and I still meet occasionally at the hospital, and we always laugh about the time we lost our rhythm to a classic MC Hammer tune. Source
