small annoyances

I got out of my mom's car and looked at the monstrous building that loomed before me. On this sunny, summer morning I was volunteering at Shands Hospital. I had woken up extremely early to get here on time. Despite the sweltering hot weather, I had been forced to wear the standard green volunteer shirt and a pair of long, khaki pants. I could not help but feel annoyed as I thought about what I could be doing instead. The smell of rubbing alcohol mixed with coffee greeted my nose the moment I walked through the front entrance of the atrium. Suddenly, a wave of anxiety hit me as I observed the bustling environment. There were hundreds of hallways and doors. There were tons of doctors, all wearing differently colored scrubs, walking at a brisk pace to get to their assigned wings. There were people that I assumed to be family members ambling about the lobby looking stressed. I felt awkward and overwhelmed standing in the middle of this confusion and not knowing where to go. I wandered down the winding hallways by following the signs directing me to the volunteer office. After getting lost multiple times in the maze, I finally made it to the office. Nervously, I opened the door and walked in to the small room. The first person I saw was a pudgy, middle-aged woman with curly hair. She quickly greeted me, introduced me to a couple other teenagers and then gave us our assignments for the day. She led us to an elevator where we got on. The woman punched each floor button without saying a word. At each stop she would make one of us get off. She told me to get out on the fourth floor which happened to be the pediatrics wing. She gave me simple instructions, to go give assistance to the nurses. I felt another wave of dread flood through me. Why was I here so early in the morning in these uncomfortable clothes with no idea of what I was doing? I felt so out of place and uneasy. I ended up making my way over to a nurses' station to ask if they needed any help. This was the only part of the hospital that had any color on the walls besides beige. The walls were covered with children's drawings and pictures.They pointed me in the direction of a room and told me it was a girl who had suffered serious burns. She was about eight years old and I had never felt so sorry for anyone in my entire life. Her entire torso and both of her legs were completely bandaged and wrapped up. She had to stay in the same position all day long due to her delicate condition. The girl also didn't have any family members or friends with her and she had been at the hospital for a long time. When I entered the room it was dimly lit and the blinds were drawn. She looked up at me and grimaced. I sat in the chair next to the bed and introduced myself to her. We ended up talking for hours. It was so heart wrenching to see such a nice, young girl wasting away in this hospital bed. Talking with this girl made me appreciate everything that I have. She would have given anything to be able to leave the hospital and enjoy life, even if it meant wearing pants and having to find her way around a new place. The things I had been complaining about in my head earlier that day were so trivial.    I had always appreciated the things I had, but something about this experience just opened my eyes to a whole new level of appreciation. Now whenever I am unhappy or upset about something, the image of the girl flashes into my head and I am reminded of how truly fortunate I am to be able to live my daily life, even with the minor annoyances.