Brinley Wyczalek eagerly looks out of her hospital room window every afternoon around 3:15.
Across the way in another building, a crew of construction workers wave at her, forming heart shapes with their hands. Brinley, 4, smiles and sends hearts back.
The daily exchange lasts only a few minutes, but it has become the brightest part of her day. Brinley has been in inpatient care at Cleveland Clinic Children’s since October and is waiting for a heart transplant.
Brinley was born healthy, but at 2 was diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy and heart failure, caused by covid-19 and respiratory syncytial virus, her mother said.
“It kind of just progressed in her little tiny body without us even knowing she was sick,” Berlyn Wyczalek said.
Doctors discovered the problem only because Brinley had croup, and Wyczalek — a respiratory therapist — insisted on a chest X-ray, she said.
“I knew something wasn’t right with her,” Wyczalek said. “She wouldn’t be here had we not caught it.”
For about 18 months, medication stabilized Brinley’s condition, and she was able to live at home in Vermillion, Ohio, roughly 45 miles from Cleveland. But gradually, her heart weakened. It began to stunt her development.
“It eventually got to the point where she wasn’t growing,” Wyczalek said. “Her heart was using all of the energy her body had.”
Doctors admitted Brinley to the hospital and placed her on the transplant list. She has now spent more than 110 days there.
As she waits for a new heart — which could take up to 18 months — Brinley relies on a Berlin Heart, a ventricular assist device that helps pump blood through her body.
“It acts as a bridge to transplant,” Wyczalek explained. “The machine does all the work. … It’s really amazing.”
But the device comes with limitations. Brinley can only be unplugged from the wall for 30 minutes at a time, making it difficult to leave her room for long stretches. The days often feel monotonous.
“She’s starting to get a little stir-crazy in the room,” her mother said. “The other day she was crying and saying she just wants her heart to be here already.”
Brinley’s parents have tried to make the hospital room feel as much like home as possible, decorating it with colorful pillows, sheets and toys. They said they entertain her as best they can. One day in January, Brinley’s father was playing with her, using the flashlight on his phone to cast light around the room.
In the building across from them, Devan Nail noticed a flicker through the window. Nail, 26, is a carpenter for OCP Contractors, and is working on Cleveland Clinic’s new Neurological Institute. He looked closer and saw nurses waving — and what appeared to be a tiny patient. He shined a light back.
Realizing he was facing a children’s hospital, Nail quickly made a simple sign: “Get Well Soon,” with a heart drawn underneath. He had no idea he was working across from the hospital’s cardiac floor.
Back in Brinley’s room, her mother was stunned.
“I was begging for a sign of hope,” she said.
The family responded with their own message: “THANK U, WAITING FOR A 
.”
“That started it all,” Nail said, adding that he wrote another sign back a few days later that said: “Praying for you & your family. Keep fighting!”
“We kind of just built this bond of talking back and forth,” Wyczalek said.
Now at the end of each shift, Nail and several of his co-workers go to the third floor to say hi to Brinley. They also often tape up new signs with messages like “Good Morning Brinley!” and “Not All Superheroes Wear Capes, Some Wear Pigtails and Smiles.”
“It hits close to home,” said Nail, whose fiancée’s father had a heart transplant. “It makes you really appreciate what you have, and you never know what the person next to you is going through.”
After learning about Brinley’s story, many workers contributed to a GoFundMe to help her family. Brinley’s father continues working to maintain the family’s health insurance, while her mother is staying in Cleveland during her treatment.
The construction crew also delivered gifts: a hard hat signed by each worker, a giant teddy bear, coloring books, pajamas and a gift basket.
“It all just started to spiral in a good way. … It’s cool to see that such a small thing could impact a lot of people,” Nail said. “To have a small part in her journey is really uplifting for myself and others.”
One of Nail’s co-worker’s mother’s gave Brinley an LED heart light to put on her window. They agreed that whenever the light is on, it signals to the workers that Brinley is doing okay.
“Every day, I find myself checking to make sure it’s on,” Nail said. “I pray for her every day.”
Even on days when the blinds are drawn, or the glare obscures the view, Nail and others still show up — waving and making hearts with their hands.
“I get upset when I can’t see her,” Nail said.
Brinley’s care team said the daily ritual has lifted her spirits during a difficult and uncertain time.
“There is healing and there is nurturing of the soul when there is a friendly interaction, when there is an interaction grounded in compassion and mutual respect,” said Shahnawaz Amdani, Brinley’s pediatric cardiologist, and the section head of pediatric heart transplant at the Cleveland Clinic. “That’s what you see here.”
Amdani said pediatric patients waiting for a heart experience “inordinately long” wait times, as there are size-matching requirements and a shortage of young donors. He said the support of hospital staff — and the construction workers — can make the wait less emotionally taxing.
“The year is long, but hopefully these interactions make sure the days are short,” he said. “The better she is from a mental health standpoint going into a big operation like this … I’ve done enough heart transplants to tell you that it absolutely has a positive impact on the outcome.”
For Brinley’s parents, the support has made a big difference as well.
“Even though we’re in these four walls, there are other people out there rooting for Brinley and other kids on the floor,” Wyczalek said. “It’s something to look forward to in the long days that we’re sitting there.”
Despite her medical challenges, Wyczalek described her daughter as a sweet and spunky little girl who loves dancing to Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club.”
“She is meant to do great things,” her mother said. “I know she will.”
Each afternoon, Wyczalek sets a 3:05 p.m. alarm on her phone to make sure Brinley doesn’t miss her friends across the street. One day, she hopes to tape a new message to the glass.
“I can’t wait to put up a sign that says, ‘I’m getting a new heart,’” Wyczalek said.
Until then, Nail said he’ll be there at the window.
“It’s not a chore; it’s not something that I have to do. It’s to see her smile,” Nail said. “Just a simple wave or heart signal means the world.”
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