This isn’t my story, but my friend L’s. Another post about Disney reminded me of this heartwarming memory.
My friend L passed away at 25 from a genetic condition, but she left behind a lot of stories, including this one. She also had a younger brother with the same condition, who thankfully is still with us.
When L and her brother were younger, they were part of an all-expenses-paid trip to Disney World in Florida for terminally ill kids. It was a large group—16 kids in total—accompanied by coordinators, minders, and a nurse for every two children.
L was around 12, and her brother was about 10. She always described the trip as magical. For once, being surrounded by other sick kids made her and her brother feel “normal.” They weren’t the odd ones out—they were just like everyone else.
To make the experience even better, the group had fast passes to skip the long queues. But an incident occurred while L and her brother were at the back of the group, about to use the fast pass lane.
An older, cranky woman stopped L and asked, “What makes you so special that you can’t wait in the queue like the rest of us?”
L felt her face flush red and panicked, thankful that her brother had already gone ahead and didn’t hear the confrontation. She didn’t know what to say.
That’s when her nurse stepped in, visibly furious.
“All of these children are dying and quite literally don’t have the time to wait in all the queues,” the nurse said firmly.
L said the woman’s face turned ashen, her mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish. She was too shocked to respond.
The nurse then gently took L’s hand, and they went on to enjoy the rest of the day.
L loved telling this story. It wasn’t just about the magic of Disney but also the kindness and fierce protectiveness of the people who made the trip unforgettable for her and her brother.
