Stories from Hospital Clowns that will touch your heart

	Following are some experiences shared by Caring Clowns in The Hospital Clown Newsletter I Love You Wollie (as told to Shobi by Jackie Garner) Your Highness, the Prince (as told to Shobi by Jackie Garner) Playing the Unresponsive -- Eugene Luttrell You Are My Sunshine -- "B.B." Widdop "Seize Yeah Later!" -- " B.B." Widdop Littlest Clown In Clown Heaven -- Mama Clown" Marcela Murad Treasured Moment -- Shobi Dobi	[home]
	I Love You Wollie – (as told to Shobi by Jackie Garner)
	Jackie Garner's a.k.a. Lollibells lives in Durham, North Carolina, but started her clown career in Texas 12 years ago. She lectures and gives workshops nationwide on clowning and clown ministry. Jackie shared the following with a group of caring clowns at the Clowns of American International Convention in Massachusetts in April 1997
	I was packing to go to a convention when I got a call from a hospital I'd never been to. I don't know how they found out about Lolli. They said "We have a little boy in ICU could you come as fast as you can." I had already packed my costume, but when I heard ICU, I had Lolli clowned up and at that hospital in 30 minutes. I had never and never since put on my makeup that fast. I could never makeup again that fast or that well except that it was something that I was called to do.
	I get up to Pediatric ICU and as soon as the elevator doors open you can hear crying and moaning cause these kids don't like being there and they're hurting. Now ICU is normally glassed rooms, because they have to be able to see everything. You can see all the children in their beds. You haven't been called to see them, but all those children are watching you. So I go into a little boy's room - his name was Vincent. He is four and a half years old. And again you could hear moaning. I come around the corner and again in character voice "Hello" The doctor says, "You must be Lolli!" "Yes, and who is this handsome boy" The doctor introduces "This is Vincent." Lolli continues "Are you married? Are you engaged to anyone?" He doesn't say anything, he is just looking at me, but his eyes are smiling. He's not scared of me after all he's four and one-half.
	The doctor says "Lolli, do you mind if we bring in a rocking chair - would you like to sit in a rocking chair and hold Vincent?" Lolli answered "Sure would" So, they brought in this beautiful white rocking chair. And again I can be seen by all the other children all around me from their beds. They lay a pad across my lap and they lay Vincent in my arms, and he is so close. His eyes immediately go to my jeweled heart nose. He's checking out my hair, my face and all the bright colors. And Mama is looking right over my left shoulder and Daddy's looking right over my right shoulder, so we are all close. "Lolli loves you, Vincent."
	I can tell he wants to touch my nose. So I take his finger and push my nose and laugh. "This is little Lolli's laugh button. Tee hee, Little Lolli loves you, Vincent." Mama's over the left shoulder saying "I love you, baby" and Daddy says "It's O.K. son, Daddy's here."
	About 30 minutes goes by - just quiet time of giggles and nose pushing. In that time I knew this child like my own. We made a connection that no one could ever separate. Yet, he had not said one word to me. All of a sudden, Vincent pushes my nose again and he giggles all the way to his toes. Just giggles. Not one tear. There was no pain. This is what happens, something magical happens when a clown is there with a child in a one-on-one.
	He just had the sweetest smile in his eyes and face. And each time I would say "Little Lolli loves you, Vincent," and Mama and Daddy would say "I'm here, I love you." This time I pushed my nose and giggled and said "I love you." He took a breath and spoke, "I love you, Wollie." I wanted to change my name to Wollie, right there. Then he said "I love you, Mommy. I love you, Daddy." And with this, his eyes went up to my eyes and my nose. "You want to push my nose again." So I took his little finger and pushed my nose. As I said "Little Lolli loves you, Vincent," he takes in the deepest breath, his smile broadens and his eyes are glistening. Then he breathes out his last breath. He dies in Lolli's arms.
	The doctor comes over and takes Vincent from my arms and the mother and father go with him and I'm thinking, I've got to get out of here. I've got to run. But I look up at all those kids around me. They don't know what just happened. They are watching my every move. I am the clown. I am not Jackie Garner dressed as Lollibelle - I am Lolli to them. I am the only clown they may ever see. So I wave "Hello" in Lolli's character voice, but I'm thinking I've got to get out of here. I go out the door and there is a child right there. "Hello, Lolli loves you." I'm thinking, if I can just get to the elevator, I can let this out. I'm half way down the hall and I can see the elevator button. "Hello, Hi" waving to the other children. Inside me, the mother I am, is screaming, but these kids don't see this. It does not show on my face, because I am Little Lolli the clown.
	Jackie Garner cannot do this. God has a part in this, something greater has control of this for you when you do this with all your heart and you want to help the kids. He's going to help you do it. That's the only way you are going to get through it. I'm not a great person. I'm not superwoman. I just have to let go and let Him help me handle it.
	So, I'm almost to the elevator, and here Tears are running down his face and he is reaching into his pocket. "What do I owe you?" I answer softly "Nothing, what do I owe you!" And I leaned over and whispered into his ear. "There are children watching and I have to stay in clown character." And as I go to the elevator I wave. "I love you, Daddy. Bye! Bye!" I push the button and I see the down light flashing, but here comes the mother crying. "Lolli, please I need to see you." I answer in character "O.K. Mom." And I think that was the longest walk I ever made in my life - back down the hall toward the mother. When I get there, Mom just falls into my arms - and she is sobbing into my costume - and I can feel her tears go past my hair and down my neck. "Lolli, he never got to go to Disney World, my baby never even got to see the circus and all of that. Oh, did you notice the way he went, there was no pain. He was smiling, he was giggling." And Lolli whispered in her ear, "I know, Mom. He's going to be fine. You're going to see him someday and you're going to take up just were you left off. But other children are watching Lolli. I love you and from one mommy to another I do understand. Thank you for letting me be a part of this." She looked up, "We will never forget you, Lolli." Daddy comes out and they walk back down the hall. And there I am trying to get back to the elevator, again, in character waving to the children "Hello, Hi, Little Lolli loves you." The children for all they knew, the child fell asleep in my arms. come Vincent's Dad. "Clown, wait!"
	The elevator door opens and sure enough there was a mom inside with two kids. "Hello!" I'm thinking, soon I'll be outside and I can let go. And the lobby was full of kids, and the parking lot looked like Disney World. "Hello! How ya doing?" I get on the freeway and everyone is driving by waving at the clown - "Oh look there is a clown. Hello, Clown" I'm thinking, God find me a dirt road please! And I found one right after I asked for it. I drove down that road and there wasn't a soul on the road and I was able to let go and cry. These to me are the true tears of a clown. When you are touched by something and you realize that you are being used to touch and offer healing. Be it death or whatever, you never know what you are going to be asked to do.

	Your Highness, the Prince (as told to Shobi by Jackie Garner) [top of page]
	"Fantasy is my specialty - making the kids disappear from where they are, by assuming they and you are somewhere else. I learned this the very first time I went as Little Lolli to Children's Hospital in Dallas, Texas.
	Little Lolli is only five. She's just a baby, so that's why she doesn't have a full size nose yet. She's got just this little heart nose. You've got to start with heart. For some reason on that first day I decided to wear a red jewel heart glued to the tip of my nose. It turned out that the jewel picks up fluorescent light and it looks like a light.
	That first day Little Lolli did a magic show for the kids who were strong enough to leave their rooms. The children that I saw looked a little tired. It was the first time that I saw a child with no hair from the Chemo, and just so weak and tired. After the show I went down the hall accompanied by the Child Life Worker. She goes into this room and I can hear the child moaning and crying "No, I want down, no, I want down." I can't see him yet, so I have no clue as to what is going on. I hear, "Do you want to see a clown?" A little boy's voice answers tearfully "O.K." And then he said again "I want down."
	What happened next, I realized later, I couldn't do as Jackie Garner, but only as Little Lolli, the clown. I learned what it means to be in that character and stay in that character totally.
	Coming around that corner into the room, I see a four-year-old boy in what looks like a giant high chair. It has steel rods on the side and at the top there is a band around his head. His head is bolted to this chair [the boy was in traction]. He cannot move. I didn't know what it was, all I see is this child trapped in this thing. His knuckles were white with trying to get out. The doctors were trying to hold him in this thing. As I said I let go of Jackie and I let Lolli handle it (which is letting go and letting God). I'm not trying to push my beliefs on people, but I believe in that with all my heart. I truly believe that is the only way you can do this work without "losing it.
	So Lolli in character [I wish you could hear Lolli's character voice] makes direct eye contact with Daniel. "Oh, my goodness it's a Prince," she exclaims! The boy looked to Lolli like he was sitting on a throne with a crown on. "Your highness the Prince," Lolli said as elegantly as Lolli could. She knelt in front of him, took his hand and kissed it. Holding his hand she continued "Oh, you've got a great castle here, I've never seen so many rooms." The nurse comes in, "Is this your slave. Does she have to do everything you tell her?" At that time we could still make balloons in the hospital, so I made him a sword. "I'm making you this sword because you are a prince. This is for dragon slaying. And if someone says ‘What are you doing,' you say, ‘I'm keeping all the dragons away.' If they say ‘I don't see any dragons,' you say ‘Well, then I'm doing a great job!" Lolli bowed before him and handed him the sword over her arm.
	Everything was done kneeling and bowing ‘cause the clown plays the total fool who does not know the child's medical situation. This child is hearing the clown's imagination and what she thinks the situation is. Lolli went on "Is this your mother? Oh, your highness the Queen" and she kneels down "Is this your dad? Oh, King!" But Lolli starts calling King the dog! "Here king! Here king! (whistle) Come here boy! Eh? Ah, Oh, excuse me Dad," and with a long bow "Your highness the King." By this time the child is laughing and getting very caught up in this little fantasy world that the clown believes is the truth.

	Playing the Unresponsive -- Eugene Luttrell [top of page]
	"Mr. Bumbles" (a.k.a. Eugene V. Luttrell) has been the volunteer clown at Kaiser-Permanente Medical Center-North in Sacramento, California, since 1991. He has also clowned at Camp ReCreation since 1985, working with developmentally disabled and physically challenged children of all ages.
	A patient usually looks up, smiles or otherwise responds to the stimuli of a silly non-medical staff who squeaks, smiles, and seeks to share cheer. But what of the unresponsive patient?
	I never considered myself ignored by a patient. Often behind a vacant stare may be consciousness, but an inability to communicate, and in some cases an unwillingness to speak.
	I, therefore, speak as if a two-way conversation was occurring and complete my routine (unless asked to leave). Then I smile and say: "Have a good day."
	Let me give three significant examples:
	At a Special Olympics on a hot May Saturday in Sacramento, as a "first of May" Clown, Mr. Bumbles was still quite nervous. A group of residential facility patients was sitting under a tree while others competed. I picked a boy, about thirteen years old, who appeared to be blind and was rocking back and forth. I got down on my knees and introduced myself; the attendant said "He's James. He don't talk and he can't see." Mr. Bumbles kept talking and started to describe his costume and makeup.
	When I said "I have a RED NOSE," The miracle happened, James said "Like Rudolph?" I answered "Do you know Rudolph?" James replied "The Red Nose Reindeer!" I asked "Can you sing it?"
	Then James started to sing, accompanied by Mr. Bumbles on his kazoo and in voice. In the sun on my knees with a person "Who don't talk," we sang "Rudolph, Jingle Bells," and "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town," much to the amazement of the attendant who responded "Nobody ever heard him talk before!"
	This first incident was a sign that clowning for me was a way to open some door and communicate with some special people and never to prejudge "the blind who don't speak."
	The second incident is with a young mother, aged 42, who had undergone surgery for back and spinal ailments due to complications of Lupus. She was a teacher who did some clowning with her students and was amazed there could be a clown right there in her hospital room! Over the next several months we visited weekly and planned to clown together when she returned home.
	Unfortunately her condition deteriorated gradually, ultimately placing her in Intensive Care Unit (ICU). One morning on arrival at the Medical Center, I was given a request from her husband to visit her with medical staff approval.
	On arrival at ICU, her husband and her doctor were outside the room. The doctor said she hadn't recognized anyone in several days; the husband asked that I go in and hold her hand anyway. (He believed!) When I did her eyes opened and she whispered "Mr. Bumbles . . . Hello!" The doctor's response was disbelief. The Clown in her reacted to the Clown at her bedside. We all had to wipe our eyes.
	The following week another visit was made, the hand was held, a squeeze was felt, but no words. In a few days she was released from her bed of pain, but we know she is in God's Clown Kingdom performing for the young angels. I feel her presence at the center from time to time, and her family maintains contact at holiday and anniversary times with the Clown who helped Mom.
	The third story revolves around the oldest person this clown has seen. On my rounds I saw a large assembly of people around a bed which was occupied by an elderly gentleman. I was informed: "Grandpa is 109 years old and he hasn't spoken in years." Present were daughter, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
	When the clown entered the room, the man sat straight up in his bed and hollered: "Look, my clown is here!", grabbed my hand and shook it. I even got a hug!
	His granddaughter (in her thirties) reacted with a gasp, "I've never heard Grandpa's voice before." Someone said "Maybe he didn't have anything to say." It was a shock, pleasant in nature, to the family, and shows the opening of a door possible via the clown character. They all heard their grandpa speak -- some for the first and some for the last time!
	The following week I returned. Grandpa was still there, alone but awake. When I took his hand, he said "Clown's back." I returned the next week, the room and bed were empty. He lives in this clown's memory.
	These vignettes point to how, with the help of God, a higher being or whatever your belief, the clown character can open doors and create small miracles. This is a great by-product of being a Hospital Caring Clown who simply holds hands and smiles a lot."

	You Are My Sunshine -- "B.B." Widdop [top of page]
	"B.B." Widdop is the supervisor of the Big Apple Circus Clown Care Unit at Boston Children's Hospital. He shared his experiences with us at the Southwestern COAI Regional Convention in September, 1996 in California. "B.B." shows a perfect example of being in the moment, doing something very spontaneously that he probably would never have done if he had to think about it. He shares this moment with us.
	We met Shari on her first birthday. Every time she saw me her eyes would bug right out and she would wiggle -- we of the CCU (Clown Care Unit) call that a ‘Stand-up wiggle.' It's the highest award a clown can get! They are just excited to see you and are wiggling because they don't know how to clap yet. For six months every time I saw Shari, I'd get a Stand Up Wiggle. I'd sing ‘You Are My Sunshine' and she'd wiggle even more.
	Shari had a very bad heart when she was born and had never left the hospital. One day we found out Shari was going to get a new heart. Everyone was so excited we were all dancing. The mother was dancing, the nurses were dancing, the doctors were dancing, the clowns were dancing and Shari was wiggling. -- this was Celebration time. That was on a Monday, on Wednesday the transplant had taken place and I saw Shari in isolated room at Cardiac ICU. There she was in all her nakedness, stitches and wounds from the transplants under these sun lamps. The nurses had given her these fluorescent sun glasses, so she looked like she was posing for a magazine. It was like ‘Go Shari!' On Friday they were moving Shari's name off the ‘run down' board. I said ‘Is Shari leaving the floor?' The nurse said, ‘It looks like Shari is leaving us!'
	We did the rest of the rooms, and as we were coming around the end where the isolated rooms are, Dolly (my clown round partner) just couldn't take it anymore. She ran to the lounge and started to cry. For myself, and again I don't know why I did this, I ended standing up in front of the isolation windows where Shari was still lying and sang ‘You Are My Sunshine' at a very slow tempo. When I finished singing, I turned to my left and Shari's father was standing at my shoulder. I remembered the article on near death experiences in the Hospital Clown Newsletter and said ‘Have fun, Shari. You'll see heaven is fun!' [Editor's note: From what we know of NDE's I wonder if Shari at that time was floating over head watching B.B. The Clown singing, standing next to Dad, both of them with tears running down there faces.]

	"Seize Yeah Later!" – "B.B." Widdop [top of page]
	In neurosurgery, the kids are sitting there, they are in bed, they are being monitored, they have all these leads coming out of the top of their heads and they have this muslin turban on and they are just sitting there. You might have a parent sitting in the same room with them. They will be looking at the kid, because they know there is something wrong and the kid will be looking at the parents saying, "I know there is something wrong" and nothing's happening. There are TV cameras and monitors in the room to actually see if the kid is going to do anything.
	Well, we had walked into the room of a teen age boy. The father was looking at the kid, the kid was looking at the father, the father was looking at the mother, the mother was looking at the kid, the kid was looking at the mother. Back and forth. Enter the Clowns Dolly and B.B.
	I asked the Dad if he had any money. So, I played a little street shuffle game--Two-Card MontÉ, between the Dad and the Kid. It's call "Sucker Magic." The person who has the cards is in control of who wins. I always made sure the kid always won. I got the kid up to about 35 cents and no matter what that father thought he could do he was not going to win this game. The kid was always going to win. The kid was like "Yea, I'm winning"
	Well, when we walked out of the room, alarms went off, bells went off, the staff came flying past us into the room. We had no idea what was going on. So I say to Dolly "Let's get out of the way and let them do their work." So we stepped into the next patient's room.
	We finished and were walking past the room where all the bells and whistles went off, the mother came out and grabbed me by the arm. ‘Thank you so much for giving my kid a seizure!' I was like devastated. My jaw dropped and I just looked at her. I just stared at her eyes and said ‘This is a good thing?' She said, ‘We have been waiting three days for it.' So I said ‘Well, then it was my pleasure.'
	I immediately left her and went down to the charge nurse and I said ‘I just gave someone a seizure. Should I call my lawyer -- what do I do?' She goes ‘Yes, Great!' I was like ‘Oh my God, what is going on here'
	It was explained that the children are being monitored, as they want to see what brings on the seizure. Apparently this particular seizure was brought on when he was elevated to happiness. Because of the seizure, and what they found out, they were able to operate. This got rid of the seizures all together. So every time I go back up into neurosurgery, I want to wear a T-shirt that says "Visit Nurse B.B." and on the back I want a waving hand that says "Seize yeah later!"

	The Littlest Clown in Clown Heaven-- Mama Clown" Marcela Murad [top of page]
	"Mama Clown" Marcela Murad has been clowning for 20 years. She has traveled all over the United States, Puerto Rico, Mexico and the Caribbean teaching just about everything, from face painting to birthday parties, storytelling, balloons.
	One day Mama Clown was called to the hospital especially to see a little eleven-year-old girl, Stephanie, who had leukemia. Mama Clown goes up and does all her stuff and the little girl laughs and laughs. Mama continues to go to the hospital for the next few weeks, while Stephanie battles leukemia. So it was that they got to know each other.
	On one visit Mama Clown was stopped in the hall by one of Stephanie's nurses. "Stephanie will not be leaving the hospital this time." Stephanie had maybe two weeks to live.
	When Mama quietly enters the child's room, Stephanie looks up at her and asks very seriously, "Mama, please sit down, I want to talk to you about something."
	Mama Clown sits next to her and Stephanie whispers, "What happens to people when they die?"
	Well, Mama Clown is a "little girl clown" still in Kinderclown, so she answers with the enthusiasm of her character, "I don't know about regular heaven." She continues as proudly as her little clown is, "but I know clowns go to clown heaven."
	The little girl's eyes got big, "What's clown heaven like?"
	"Oh, it's going to be wonderful. You know, that's where all the elephants go. And all the old clowns." Mama Clown begins to tell one of her big whopping stories. "We have parades every day, and cotton candy, and we are just having the best time. That is where all of us clowns go. Yep! We've got our own special heaven and nobody can be in there, but us clowns. It's going to be just wonderful."
	Stephanie looks up and asks, "Mama Clown, can I go to Clown Heaven?"
	"No problem!" Mama Clown responds enthusiastically. "All you need is a clown nose. Tell them Mama sent you and they will let you in. I promise you."
	So Mama tells her all about being a clown. Then she paints a red nose on her. So every day the little girl makes sure she is ready and has a red nose.
	As it was, Mama Clown had to go to a convention and was away for six days. On her return she went upstairs, just as fast as she could, to see how Stephanie was doing. She found out that Stephanie had passed on. The nurse said "The day she died, she made us paint a red nose on her -- up until the last minute her concern was whether her nose looked O.K., so she could go to clown heaven."
	The parents buried Stephanie with her red nose on, because she was looking forward so, to going to Clown Heaven. Mama Clown had given her a fantasy that carried her through to the end. It was something so difficult for the family, yet this little red nose gave them something joyful to hang onto.

	Treasured Moment -- Shobi Dobi (Editor of The Hospital Clown Newsletter [top of page] One very sunny Christmas Day when Shobi Dobi was making balloon animals for the grandchildren of a woman in the Respiratory Care Unit of a local hospital, I noticed an elderly woman curled up in the next bed. This was the very first day Shobi Dobi had ever clowned in a hospital, so I was a wee bit inexperienced. I had been so involved with the family that I had not even noticed other women in the hospital room! I excuse myself from the family and immediately drew back the curtain between the two beds. I got my colorful self in the line of sight of the woman and made a greeting gesture. I thought I detected a faint smile, so I gently picked up her hand and held it between mine. With our eyes connecting, I saw again that faint smile, so I sat down and gently stroked her hand. To my amazement the woman began to sing Christmas Carols in some language I did not know. I stayed for some time holding her hand, and humming with her, fighting back tears. We were so close. When I left, she was still singing.
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