Emma Kelly
When I was seven-years-old my father, a plastic surgeon, went on his first Operation Smile mission. At the time, I could not understand what was so important that he would leave me for a full two weeks.
When he came home to show me pictures of children, just like me, whose lives had been changed by Operation Smile’s work, a lifelong love for the organization was born and I became more than willing to share my Dad with other children around the world. It was not until his third mission, when I was about 10-years-old, that he mentioned there were high school students volunteering on his mission.
At that point, I realized my dream of one day, in the near future, of volunteering on an Operation Smile mission.
Six years later, after waiting and watching my dad leave on two more missions, it was finally my turn. On August 30, 2009, I boarded a plane from Miami and began my long journey to Fortaleza, Brazil. I left my mom, my brother, my friends, everything I’ve ever known. Except my Dad. This would be his sixth mission.
After an 8-hour flight to Sao Paulo, I joined my mission partner Kellie and my sponsor Pam. We shared a 4-hour flight to Fortaleza and stepped off the plane into a world like nothing any of us had ever known.
Screening began with a 5:30 a.m. wake-up call the next day. Due to sheer excitement, I was awake before the alarm even went off. We arrived at Hospital Infantil Albert Sabin and were greeted by 50 prospective patients and their families. Kellie and I stood at the edge of a long, narrow waiting room crammed with anxious people.
At home, my Brazilian friends had tried to teach me some basic Portuguese lessons and give me information about their culture, but nothing could have prepared me for screening. We were shocked by the amount of people, many of whom were staring directly at us and speaking excitedly in Portuguese.
Pam stood behind us and gave us a little nudge, “Well, let’s go!” Kellie and I looked at each other, took a deep breath and joined the crowd. We passed out plastic beaded necklaces to everyone; even the boys wanted one. I began to blow bubbles and the younger kids swarmed me laughing and chasing as they watched each delicate bubble float by.
The atmosphere quickly became so relaxed that I wondered how I ever could have been nervous. The rest of day went by so fast that I was surprised when Mateus and Shannon, our fabulous mission coordinators, told us the first bus back to our hotel was leaving.
The local media sent the word out about Operation Smile’s arrival in Fortaleza, and, on the second day of screening, we had over 100 patients show up, plus about two family members for each patient. During that day, I met an 8-year-old boy with a cleft palate named Lucas.
What was unusual about Lucas was that he was accompanied by his father. Fathers were a rarity on this mission. While there were over 100 mothers there and quite a few grandmothers, Lucas’ father was one of five fathers I had seen the entire mission.
As I started a game of Frisbee, Lucas joined in. His energy was contagious and I found myself constantly laughing and sometimes breathing hard in an effort to keep up with him. He impressed me because he seemed so uninhibited by his cleft palate. It was only when Lucas tried to speak that I was reminded of the deformity.
All the while, Lucas’ father kept a watchful eye on him. He was so careful and loving towards him, making sure that Lucas got enough food when meals were passed out at the hospital and never letting him out of his sight. I could see the anxiety in his face as they passed through the different stages of screening and I found myself hoping almost as anxiously as them that Lucas would be put on the surgery schedule.
We had four and a half days of surgery. I never saw a full list of who made it. Only the night before would our coordinators put up the surgery schedule for just the next day. For the first three days, I watched over 75 children whom I had grown close to have their lives change. Each case was as beautiful and unique as the next.
When I actually went into the OR on some surgeries, my dad would tell me each step of the surgery and I’d listen and watch in awe of the transformation. I met and formed strong bonds with many children and their families, but there was no sign of Lucas for the first two and a half days.
Finally, as I was getting ready to leave the hospital on the third day, the next wave of patients scheduled for the fourth day arrived at the hospital with Lucas and his father among them. I was so overjoyed to see them again. I communicated with them the best way I knew how, by smiling, laughing, blowing bubbles and passing out more stickers.
The next morning, Kellie and I arrived at the hospital, once again armed with stuffed animals, plastic cars, bubbles, stickers, stamps and coloring books. I checked the schedule and Lucas was one of the last surgeries of the day.
There were five operating tables he could have been on, but he was scheduled to have his operation done by my father. I rushed back to the ward’s playroom to tell Lucas and his father. I spoke my absolute best Portuguese, but Lucas and his father just gave me a quizzical look so I grabbed one of the local university students to translate for me. They both smiled and shared my joy in the connection.
Lucas’ father, like me, truly understood the importance and value of a loving father in a child’s life and I began to realize the incredible impact of the coincidence.
Throughout that day, Kellie and I colored and played with the patients. All of the surgeries were going smoothly, but I could see the anxiety begin to build up in Lucas’ father’s eyes again. An hour before his surgery, our wonderful child psychologist came to take Lucas away and prep him for the procedure.
Lucas remained extremely brave, keeping a smile on his face as he hugged his father good-bye. I could see his father trying to stay strong too and it wasn’t until after Lucas was gone that he finally let all his pent-up worries break through his composure.
It was late afternoon by then so much of the children in the ward were already recovering from surgery, therefore they weren’t very active and our playroom was much calmer than usual. I sat with Lucas’ dad for the next 45 minutes distracting him with coloring and watching the other children play. When I figured Lucas’ surgery was beginning, Kellie and I hugged him and left to go watch the surgery.
I walked into the OR just as the anesthesiologist was preparing Lucas for surgery and held his hand as they put him to sleep. I still don’t know if I did that more for his nerves or my nerves. When my dad walked in for the surgery, I told him how I had met Lucas’ father and the incredible connections we had made.
In that moment, I realized how truly fortunate the four of us were to share in this experience. Lucas’ surgery went perfectly. I watched my dad turn the large, gaping hole in the roof of his mouth into a concrete, sturdy surface. The transformation was one of the most incredible things I had ever seen.
I waited for the nurses to wake him up when the procedure was over and then left the OR to find Lucas’ dad. We searched the ward, but he was not there.
Then our coordinator told us that the first bus back to the hotel was leaving. I said good-bye to other patients I had become close with and walked out to the bus, disappointed I was not able to share the good news.
However, just as I was about to get on the bus, I heard someone yell “Emma!” from across the street. I looked over and saw Lucas’ dad running toward me. He had been outside the hospital, getting a sandwich at the stand across the street. I jumped off the bus, hugged him and gave him a thumbs-up, the universal sign for success.
I could see he was barely holding back the tears and before I could say anything else, he said “Obrigado,” the Portuguese word for thank you, and sprinted back into the hospital to find his son.
That was the last time I saw Lucas’ father. The next morning, I was only at the hospital for half an hour because Kellie, Pam and I were scheduled to make presentations at a local children’s shelter.
We visited Lucas in recovery before we left and learned that his father had to return to work that day. So, I shared a long embrace with Lucas and had a translator tell him how proud I was of his bravery. Despite the pain he must have been feeling from the surgery, he gave me one of his classic, energetic, bright smiles. Like I said before, Lucas’ energy was contagious.
I met many other amazing, inspiring patients and their families on the mission. Lucas is just one of the 117 children who received surgery during the week.
Operation Smile does not simply change the child’s life; it changes the lives of their families and loved ones as well. I watched families become stronger as they began to understand that their child now had a greater chance at success and happiness in this world. Even, my bond with my dad was strengthened as we shared in the joy of the families.
As I left the hospital for the last time on the last day, it was difficult to comprehend the fact that in a few short hours, I’d be back in Miami. I didn’t feel like I was going home.
After only 10 days, Fortaleza no longer seemed foreign to me. Operation Smile transcends all boundaries because it gives everyone the most powerful message in the world: a smile.
Junior at Gulliver Preparatory School, Key Biscayne, Fla. Fortaleza, Brazil: September 1-9, 2009
