“Art helps kids to express themselves and not focus so much on the pain”, says Myra Benitez, Manager of Social Work at Loma Linda University Children’s Hospital.
Last February, the m.a.m.a. earth family visited Loma Linda University Children’s Hospital with a COLORING MANDALAS art project, curated by mother, artist and longshoreman, Valerie Zaks. We setup one of the activity rooms with clipboards, mandala coloring pages, Sakura markers and crayon twistables. We put on some uplifting music and slowly the kids and families trickled in to sit and color. Some in wheelchairs. Some with tubes in their noses. Some with no visible sign of illness at all, like one upbeat young girl with heart issues. It was a lovely afternoon. We also left 100 Coloring Mandala Kits for kids who were unable to leave their hospital rooms.
Then the other day, Ivory Tifa, an Occupational Therapist at the hospital, sent us this story:
May 16, 2015 — It was a Friday afternoon and almost time to go home. I had received orders to do an OT evaluation on Ezra, a teenage boy with a recurrent brain tumor. He was in ICU, so I figured it wouldn’t take too long. His name sounded familiar and as I reviewed his chart, I remembered him from 6 months ago when he was first diagnosed with cancer. At that time he was a tall, chubby teenager with brown hair, a ton of energy and a class clown personality. I put on an isolation gown and entered his room. I wasn’t surprised to see that he was now a frail and skinny boy lying in bed with a bald head and a sad look in his eyes. I also wasn’t surprised that he didn’t remember me. The nurse had told me that whenever she entered the room, his eyes got big while he asked for more pain medication, like he couldn’t wait to get something to take away not just his headache but to ease the pain of being awake. “I doubt he’ll do anything for you. He’s not very cooperative” she had told me. “But knock yourself out”. When I entered his room I introduced myself to him again and told him I was there to see how he was doing with things like getting dressed and brushing his teeth. I could tell from first glance that I was the last person on earth he wanted to see. Although he had just had surgery the previous day to remove a brain tumor, he seemed like he was moving well and probably capable of even walking around the room. I told him that he needed to sit up in the chair. He snapped angrily “I’m not getting up!” I said that at the very least, he needed to sit up at the edge of the bed. He refused everything I asked him to do. “I just want to lay in bed. I don’t want to do anything! You people never listen to me!!!” he blurted out, pulling his blanket up to cover his face in hopes that I would leave him alone. His shoulders heaved as he began to sob.
(We’ll wait while you get your tissues and take a deep breath…)
I have worked with countless teenagers who are less than thrilled to participate in therapy. I have worked with those that are depressed, angry and very resentful. I have tried using reward systems. I have tried waiting patiently. I have tried the boot camp approach. But there is no way to force someone to get dressed, take a shower, or even play ball. There is no way to force someone to care about getting out of bed. There is no way to force someone to be engaged. Despite Ezra’s hard exterior, I couldn’t help remembering him as the goofy, silly boy he had been just 6 months ago. Despite his harsh tones, my heart went out to him as he cried.
I was close to giving up when I glanced over and saw a pile of Mandala coloring sheets and package of twistable crayons on a table in the corner of the room. Mama Earth had visited the hospital a few months ago and left the supplies for the kids. I remembered the incredibly calm feeling that I felt while coloring mandalas with a former patient of mine at the event. I bargained with Ezra, giving him the choice between brushing his teeth and coloring for 3 minutes. He chose coloring. I was surprised that he agreed to do anything at all.
I sat down on a chair, something I don’t usually do in therapy. I sat facing him and presented the coloring sheets. He chose one and started to color. Remembering how I felt the last time I colored a mandala, I thought about asking him if I could color one. I was trying to give him as much control as I could. But at risk of him saying no, I simply took one and started to color. As we colored in silence for a few minutes, we each kept our eyes glued to our mandalas. He colored quickly and hastily, pressing the crayon so hard I was afraid it would break.
The nurse came in and hooked up an IV. After a few minutes I started to slowly ask him questions, always careful to keep my focus on my own coloring. He answered my questions, at first quickly. Then slowly his answers started to get a little bit longer. After a while he started to share the colors with me. I thanked him. I could feel his wall slowly crumbling down. We sat together and colored for over half an hour. Doctors came to the door and peeked in. I heard the muffled words “brain tumor” and then their voices started to fade as they continued down the hall to the next room.
As we colored, I learned about his favorite color (dark pink), the surprise birthday gift he bought for his sister (headphones) and the Orchid face cream his Mom likes but can’t afford. He shared with me that he feels guilty for his behavior and thinks his parents left him in the hospital because of his “bad attitude”. He asked me for a hug. As I gave him a hug, I told him that I stayed to color because I really care about him. “I know,” he said through the tears. He told me that he has a gift card for Subway and that if I like Subway, we could get a foot long sub and each eat 6 inches. As we colored there were many moments of silence. But I learned a lot about him during that time. When he asked me if I would be his friend, I nodded silently. I hope that the next time I see Ezra he remembers our bond, but it is very likely that we will have to start over from scratch. But for those 30 minutes, we were friends, quietly coloring our mandalas.
And there it is. One of the many reasons why we keep this m.a.m.a. earth project going.
Art therapy for children can provide kids with an easier way to express themselves and help to deal with:
- mental health problems
- grief and/or loss
- learning disabilities
- emotional problems
- abuse of any kind
- cancer or terminal illness
Right now, m.a.m.a. earth has an IndieGoGo campaign up to help us bring this project to more hospitals, shelters and place there are kids in need. The more money we raise, the more coloring kits we can provide to reach more children so please consider donating any amount today and help us meet and exceed our goal!
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