Dr. Monday and I were conducting our clown rounds yesterday, when we were motioned into a room by one of the nurses. We see a super sweet toddler looking quite small on his bed in the cardiac unit. He looks at us with wonder

Friday, March 13th, 2020, has also become known as the end of the world as we know it. It was the day after the Utah Jazz called off the rest of their NBA season due to a player contracting Coronavirus. Unimaginable. There was a feeling that uncertainty was the only thing to be certain of. My partner Monday and I stood in front of an elementary school audience, filled with a largely transient, non-English speaking group of first and second graders, delivering our nineteenth live performance of the week.

I am one of the two newest members of the Laughter League. I am also the youngest, almost the shortest, and the most terrified of public speaking! So, one of the many things I’ve learned in my first year working with these superheroes of humor, is that teens can be a little harder to reach. Yet, when I look back over the hundreds of kids that I’ve connected with in this one year, the one that really shines in my memory the brightest is, in fact, a teen.

Some days encompass more aspects of the work than others, and yesterday was one of those rich days. It was my first day back in the hospital after spending a week at the Healthcare Clowns International Meeting, where 400 clowns from 150 organizations in 50 countries came together to share ideas and brainstorm about how to continue growing this work exponentially until the whole world is aware of just how much healing can happen through the use of Healthcare Clowning.

Quite often, I am compelled to write about a single encounter with a patient, particularly in an effort to illustrate the power of humor in the healing process. But sometimes, zooming out the lens on a particular day can really paint a broader picture of our work as medical clowns.

I believe in clowns. Not the Stephen King kind, but the kind who have devoted their careers to the art of inspiring laughter wherever they go.

People can be very quick to say that someone is afraid of clowns. I am constantly wondering what I can do to minimize those knee jerk reactions.

In the hospital work, we are confronted with the possibility of death or death itself on a daily basis. Sometimes, we hear about a child who has died. The news can often come with little or no warning.

It’s hard to describe what a day spent in a pediatric hospital is like… There are so many emotions that color each day.

The room was dark, a boy who looked to be about ten years old in the bed. He had a flat affect – fancy word for really depressed. His mother stood at his bedside as we entered. A million thoughts go through my head at moments like this.

We have been visiting a new location of our host hospital once a week for a few months now. Day surgery has always been a very solid visit for us. Kids and their parents are very nervous.