In 1997, we literally lived at Children’s Hospital in WDC. Alexis (our only Daughter whom we lost in September of that year) was admitted in February after we went for a doctor appointment. Although she tried to survive outside of that world, with nursing care, technology, and all the medical accommodations we could make, her fragile body always knew how to tell us our short time at home was up.

I recall one of our longest admissions to be somewhere in the neighborhood of 9 weeks. She was living either in the infectious disease unit (Orange Floor) or the Hemonc Unit (Yellow Floor.). I remember these days from over 20 years ago as if I were there right now. Painful, overwhelming, sleep deprived, petrified.

Early one morning I was stumbling to the cafeteria to score myself some caffeine before Alexis awoke in her hospital crib. She was rarely comfortable enough to sleep for any duration of continuous time. Since so many moms had told me to “sleep when your baby sleeps” I knew I had a limited window to catch some Zs. But the thought of starting any day, let alone one in that environment without my tea, seemed worse than the sleep deprivation that would ensue when I got up early enough to sneak downstairs.

On this particular day, the environment was different. There was always a steady buzz of activity there. From folks keeping the place clean, to doctors, nurses and students, to families and a million other characters, the hospital is not a quiet place. But on this day, it was busier than usual. An organized “bustling” seemed to be happening.

I returned to Alexis’ room where I received a visitor. She was one of the administrators we’d gotten to know during our time there. She knocked quietly on the door, and when she entered said “We have a VIP coming to the hospital today. He will be making some rounds and would like to meet some of our patients and families. Is this something you would consider being a part of?”

I quickly reviewed in my mind’s calendar all of the fun things I had to look forward to that day (NOT) and without hesitation, said “Sure!”

I pulled out a clean “sleep and wear” outfit (thank you Chico’s for the Travelers Line!) and quickly showered in the small bathroom. Bright eyed, and bushy tailed I waited for the next signs of the mystery. I also called Alexis’ Dad who joined us later that morning.

The energy infused in the environment was palpable. Seemed there was a pep in the steps of all who had been tasked with tidying up, brightening up, cleaning up the unit. Folks were a little more chatty, a little more smiley, and there was some kind of morale boost that washed over us.

Later that day, in walked the then Vice President of the United States: VP Al Gore. My first impression was “Wow! He is built, I hadn’t realized!” (I later learned a bullet proof vest will do this to a person’s physique.)

VP Gore was kind. He was attentive. He spent around 10 minutes with us, making small talk and posing for photo ops. He signed a Winnie the Pooh book that had been gifted to Alexis by her Auntie, addressing a short message to Alexis. We thanked him for coming, and the VP and his entourage moved on.

Rarely have I been so bum rushed with the dichotomy of excitement (this was a big deal after months living there) and the hollow, helpless, overwhelming feeling of despair, when they all left. I am physically impacted as I recall the the memory, and can only share what my next thought was, which hopefully captures what I was feeling.

”Even the Vice President of the USA can’t save Alexis.”

And he couldn’t.