My nephew, Gilby, turns six years-old on December 26th. This past Tuesday he had his third open-heart surgery at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP).

Very early Friday morning my brother called me. It was an emergency. He asked me to meet him at CHOP. I got there at around 3:00 am. My brother and my sister-in-law were in the family waiting room. They were crying. A complication developed. My nephew went into cardiac arrest. He was on a heart/lung bypass machine. Things didn't look good. A team of clinicians were attending to Gilby. They are the best in the world. We could only wait.

In the hallway there is a display where people can write, onto a paper heart, a special gift they either wish for or a gift to give another person. These hearts were then taped to the hallway window.

I tried to picture the people who wrote these hearts. Were they like me? Were they adults or children? Visitors or family? Maybe they were patients.

Reading these gift requests I thought of the pain these people must be going through.

There were wishes for health, food, family, and toys.

People are here for the kids. SIck kids with cardiac issues.

I feel pain for every one of the kids. I can't stop thinking about them.

It's a special time of year. For children, it's magical.

The doctors and nurses at CHOP perform magic. No matter what time of year.

During the drive to CHOP I couldn't stop thinking about my brother. The emotions and pain.

I felt very selfish walking into the hospital and up to the cardiac intensive care unit. These hearts are helping alleviate my selfishness. These poor people. Sadness emanates. So does hope.

The gift I want is for Gilby to recover. I don't know what will happen.

Gilby is a good little boy. I am lucky to have him as my nephew. I love him.

The gift I received is the one that I've had for the past six years. I value that gift now more than ever.