Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Visiting Hours

I'm sitting in a hospital waiting room finally enjoying a little bit of down time. My cousin has been in a coma for more than two weeks. I traveled to Albuquerque last night to make myself of service to my aunt and cousins hoping I could do something, anything. My sister tells me that just being here is something, but it doesn't feel like it since every time I enter ICU Room #12, I see my cousin in the same state. He breathes deeply as if the air were satisfying his deepest desire. His body still except for his chest rising up and down and the occasional thrust of his shoulders when too much phlegm builds in his lungs and it's like he wants to cough it out with all his might. I watch his eyes hoping to see them pop open from the effort, but they stay closed, like as if he were in a deep sleep, a gentle, numbing sleep. I imagine him resting. I imagine his brain cells rejuvenating one by one reversing the car accident and the damage like a trend line changing course. That must take a long time, right? That's why he's been asleep for so long?
Everyone says, "pray, pray, ask God for His help." And, I think yes, yes, let's pray and pray, but we can't expect God to deliver us exactly what we want. "Let your will be done, not mine," even Jesus had to relent to a greater power. I wish I could go to sleep and awake to find all of this was a dream that no matter how startling and scary is over. But it's not my dream to dream this time. It's not my life on the line. I'm just here to help.

No comments: