A simple WhatsApp message sparked a moment of extraordinary kindness, showing how the South African children’s palliative care community cares for the smallest details, and have the biggest hearts.
PatchSA hosts a WhatsApp group for its members, a powerful community of people who care deeply for children needing palliative care and for the families who walk alongside them. Specialists, doctors, nurses, social workers, therapists, and other professionals from across South Africa use the group to ask for advice, share referrals, support one another through complex cases, and stay connected to new research, medications, and events.
Every so often, something special happens.
In January, a paediatric anaesthetist sent a message to the group that stood out from the rest:
“Hello clever people. I sedate little kids for radiotherapy – we usually get by with a sticker chart and a medal every week, but my next kiddy is blind. She’s three. Any cool ideas with how to mark off the sessions? At least she only has 10 (so two weeks) but I still want her to know it’s a big deal getting through them.”
What followed was an outpouring of creativity, kindness, and care.
Ideas flowed in quickly. Suggestions included scented stickers she could choose each day, a gentle “victory sound” played after every session, squishy stress toys, textured fabric squares that could be joined together into a “victory cloth,” and small tactile animals or stars she could keep. Someone shared links to uplifting victory songs. Others suggested beads collected after each session and turned into a bracelet at the end, or knots tied into a ribbon – one for every treatment – so she could feel her progress growing beneath her fingers.
One message described a powerful image: a soft string held by the child during radiation, with her mother holding the other end outside the room. Even when they couldn’t see each other, the string connected them as a physical reminder that love was being held steady, the whole time. This came with the suggestion of reading the book The Invisible String before treatment even began.
There were ideas for tactile charts made of wood and pegs, for advent-calendar-style treats, and for counselling moments that could turn each session into a named act of courage. The tone of the messages was light, thoughtful, playful, and deeply respectful of this small child’s experience.
And then something wonderful happened.
One very special member simply asked, “Where can I deliver?”
She had gone shopping.
Bags of stickers, beads, medals, and sensory treasures were dropped off, without fuss or fanfare. Just because it mattered.
The wonderful treasures from a quick shopping spree!
A couple of weeks later, another message was posted:
“I have to give you feedback. My little blind girl finished her radiotherapy today. Sticker chart full of the bedazzle stickers she’d chosen, bracelet kit ready with different shaped beads, the most differently shaped medals I could find. Such a treat for me to treat this little human. If I could have videoed her carefully picking her daily sticker I would have – so sweet. Thanks for the help, everyone. And super thanks to Bonni for dumping a huge bag of fun stuff on my wife’s desk.”
The group responded with joy.
It was a good day and a small but powerful reminder of just who children’s palliative care providers in South Africa are: kind, generous, compassionate people who care deeply about the details, the tiny moments of dignity, joy, and recognition that make the hard journeys a little gentler.
People who show up not only for the big decisions, but for the small, human things that matter just as much.