When I first laid eyes upon the little boy, my heart broke right in two, and my eyes filled with tears.
I felt so bad for him. He didn't ask to be injured in a war or to lose his entire family. A roadside bomb had hit the vehicle they were in; little Amir was the only one out of his family who survived ... but not without a heavy price.
Because of the bombing, Amir suffered shrapnel wounds throughout his body, and he lost both legs. He would need reconstructive surgery to repair the damage done to his intestines and stomach (he would have to wear a permanent colostomy), and he would, no doubt, need extensive therapy, both physical and mental. There was no telling what this had done to his emotional well being.
Amir was only six years old. He was the oldest in his family. He had one younger sister, Hada (four) and a baby brother named Kashif (one). He also had his parents. Now because of insurgency, his family was dead, and he was left mortally wounded (but somehow he survived).
Amir was immediately put on a "high priority" list to airlift injured civilians out of Iraq and to places like Germany, Australia, Canada, or the United States. Amir came to the United States by way of England: the hospital over there had done the lion's share of the work: now it was our turn to care for this little war orphan, to try to get him back on his "feet" and to get his emotional state under control.
He ended up at our hospital. He still remains here today, where he continues to get the best of medical care that we can offer and to let him know that not all people are bad or want to hurt him. It is going to take a very long time, but we are more than willing to try to give him his life (and his health) back.
We don't know what is going to happen in his future, but one thing is certain: we plan on giving him new legs, and we hope to have him walking again, if not on a pair of crutches, but under his own power, if he has the will to do so. Time will only tell.
To be continued.