Small Mercies

SMALL MERCIES

Another one from my uncle.  He fell seriously ill two weeks ago.  Most of us had given up on him.  The only who person who had faith in him was himself.  I visited him at the hospital as frequently as I could.  He had tubes all over him.  He had needles poked into him all the time.  The green flickering line on the monitor atop his bed was always threatening.  

When we admitted him to the hospital, the doctor gave 48 hours.  His eyes never opened.  The monitor told he was alive.  He survived two of those excruciating days.  How they must have been to him – only he can tell.  The doctors shook their heads and gave another 48 days.  We bought him medicines by the kilogram.  His body became a chemical factory – but they kept the monitor flickering and our hopes alive.  We crossed our fingers – not he.  He wouldn’t give up.

Those 48 hours passed too.  His body darkened.  His body showed the strains of the medicine more than the strains of his medical condition.  His arms and face were swollen.  And he opened his eyes.  They had a glazed look.  He wouldn’t give up.

The doctors said he had fluctuations – give him one week.  The week passed.  His eyes were open and he started holding our hands with his one good hand.  He also had hiccups – severe one, each one of them shook him violently.  He put up a strong fight – the strongest I’ve ever seen.  He wouldn’t give up.

He lost his wife.  He lost his mobility.  He lost his senses.  All too soon and all too fast.  What’s going on in his mind?  Nothing?  Something?  He cannot say and we cannot tell.  This man is courageous and wouldn’t give up until there is nothing to give up.  We knew just one thing – he wouldn’t give up.

That was an experience – one of a kind.  It brought up emotions I never knew existed.  I couldn’t manage it.  It wasn’t sadness or sorrow.  I thought it was a problem.  I thought that there was a problem for which I had no solution – indeed all of us; not just I.  Doctors included.  In fact, now I have come to realize that each one of us has to go through this – it is not a problem.  It is a state of life.  For some it is short and for some it is long.  Not one of us can ever hope to bypass this state.

Then two weeks passed.  The stubble grew.  His arms were not so swollen.  He started looking around.  The glazed look was gone.  The colour in his face was back.  With one good hand he gestured and got his ring back!

That’s some progress.  A few of us were there.  Suddenly a thought came up – we decided to have coffee at the hospital cafeteria.  We all went there – but the vendor said – no coffee – no milk.  Seeing us disappointed, he went bought some milk and prepared coffee for us.  We had our coffees standing, in small plastic cups and smiling at each other.

That was one of the biggest parties I’ve had.  The coffee was a big celebration.  All were glad.  All looked very relieved.  We all smiled and decided to put up a fight too.  Poor guy - my uncle would have given his arm to be with us and enjoy this cup (that’s irony of life).

Despite all the struggles – we always look up for small mercies. The big struggle makes you look forward to these small mercies.  This joy is something that nothing else can give.  Enjoy while the going is good – as for the struggle, well, you have to put up a fight.  Just do it!