Jimy

I shouldn’t have favorites, but there are a few children at Las Tapias for whom my heart goes out to just a tad bit more.

Jimy came to Las Tapias with many problems. At first, the adults thought he was mentally retarded. I wasn’t here when he first arrived, but I’ve heard that he’s made dramatic improvements. They say he used to throw these horrible temper tantrums every day. He’d get very violent and out of control. I witnessed one of these tantrums for the first time a couple weeks ago. He hadn’t had a tantrum in a while, but something set him off and he started screaming and crying and hitting himself. I had never seen a child act this way. At first I was intimidated. Then my heart completely broke for him. I took a hold of him and helped calm him down. Fortunately he was a bit more responsive to me than to the other adult that was also handling the situation. I think this incident helped Jimy and me form an immediate bond. Now, he’s become my little patient. He (along with several other children) has scabies, a very uncomfortable rash that can spread over the entire body. He always comes to me and says, “me pica” (I itch/sting). Then I take his hand and we walk downstairs to where the medicines are and I rub an anti-itch cream on him. Once when he was itching all over, I gave him a warm bath with medicated soap. Jimy doesn’t like to bathe so at first he resisted going into the shower. But then when one of the other adults, who is stricter than I, took him outside and proceeded to hose him down with cold water, he realized that he’d prefer to take a warm bath inside where I was. So then he got in the shower and exclaimed “que rico la agua!” (how wonderful the water!). Jimy now comes to me for other stuff, too – it’s great to know that he trusts me.

One thing about Jimy is his eyes. More than any of the other children, he has the saddest eyes. When he looks up at me, it seems as though the tears are just at the brink of overflowing. It makes me want to cry. Even when he smiles, the sadness in his eyes never goes away. I think he’s still too young to describe exactly what is tormenting him (he’s only about five), but I wish and hope he will release the sadness soon. He also has difficulty sleeping because he has nightmares. Once, when I checked in on the boys’ room at bedtime, I saw Jimy lying wide-awake. I asked him, “Why aren’t you sleeping, Jimy?” He replied, “I don’t like to sleep.” There’s something wrong when a child can’t feel comfortable and safe under the covers in his own bed…