" I care, I can't"

Being a writer he was well versed in making a point. His computer screen was his canvas and his key board was his brush. The missing part was him; he was not there.

Suffering from a stroke made him what I was seeing then; a frail, nonverbal, paralyzed man.

After months of care he did recover, but mentally he got clouded. His fiction belongs to truth, he once believed. I saw the becoming of a truth.

Life is a stage with ongoing drama, everyone knows that. He was living in a truth or a fiction was living in him, no one knew. His eyes were silent so were his lips.

One day I sat next to his bed, he looked at me with a smile. I smiled back at him; no words, no sound, no nothing. Some feelings are too strong for words to carry and some are too pure to be touched by a word. A smile was returned by a smile, with a feeling of I care but I can’t.

" as far as the mind could see "

A dying man can be saved by letting him die in peace; a compassionate death which can be planned by those trained to do so. That was the discussion about his care. A man with multi-system organ failure whose days were numbered. This was one reality, but the other reality was the denial of that fact by his family.

He always wanted to live, that was their argument, though none of them knew for how long. He was dying and that was totally unacceptable to them. 

One time I was asked about hope. Other times wishing for luck was talked about. I felt during those moments that hope was wishing for fruition, but none of them allowed it.

I was also asked quite frequently to keep chasing life on the crutches of a ventilator, drugs and drips, tubes and feeds. I saw pain and suffering; as far as the mind could see I saw no hope.

To some, reality never sinks in. It is those who never understand that it is not about them, and during the process everyone suffers; especially the one who dies.

Others know that when they follow the wishes of the one who trusted them to care for when they themselves could not, it is when hope can be seen working in sync with a wish. Llike it happens in fairy tales; a dying man can be saved by letting him die in peace. 

"what life destroys, love resurrects"

He had an aortic aneurysm rupture and he was saved after going through a life saving surgery. As his condition improved, he became more interactive. 

During his prolonged hospital stay we started to know him apart from his illness. We came to know that he was a man who had been through a lot. His life stories became our life connections.

I think the stories of our lives are the most sacred human link; whether a connection or communication between man to man or God to man, as shown in many books of man and Books of God.

To some, human stories are interesting as we share, finding ourselves as being one of the characters in others stories. A connection or bond of victims or victors made via story telling, and in the process of sharing stories, we learn something useful such as to live on in another story to be told. 

What life destroys, love resurrects; that was the story of a man who survived a surgery.

"buying hope in a black market"

She told me that she is not going to give up. She was suffering from metastatic breast cancer and she was struggling to make it to the next day alive. She was putting out what ever was left in her: courage, hope and wish.

I was amazed by the expression on her face as I saw her each passing day. She had one of those smiles where you can not hide the pain spilling out from the edges of her smile. I called it a paradox, like a truth which cannot be a fact.

One day she asked me about her prognosis; what's next, that was her question. I knew her by then; a fighter to the core. I asked her whether she wanted to know the truth or should I lie. I saw a look on her face I will never forget. I wished, if I had any power I would have given her good news. I even thought  about buying hope in a black market.

To some giving up is giving in like losing a battle. Others give in in a battle to take over a war.

In the end, only the directions of our foot steps on a battle field or in life count; winners and losers in life all equal out when we understand that nothing lasts for ever except the ways of the warriors and their legends of facing life.