" who made the first butterfly"

Being a patient who suffered a heart attack and a near death experience, he was on a roll. He was talking about life as nothing had changed. He claimed to be an atheist, which he still was. He was my friend, a well-established clinician, whose job was to evaluate and manage the impact of diseases as it affect the mind  and mind disease affecting physical body. His famous saying was that an insane mind can also make a decision though insanely.

I observed that he did not changed a bit as he was recovering. I know that people have right to believe in as they wish. Human mind has its limitations even to fantasize; our mind so to say usually  need a reference point to shoot a thought.

To some there is a God who made the first butterfly.

Others wonder in mysteries of mind with a GPS whose reference points are man-made with limitations of being human. They simply fail to admit what their heart keep telling them all along. They are the one who attempt to find a human god in this Godly universe.

" can't have a walker"

He suffered from a stroke which left him with an unsteady gait. As his life turned around towards better days, he reported to me that he is getting around, even going out to watch games.

One day on his visit I inquired about his mobility and use of a walker and wheel chair. He smiled and said, I don’t use those, I can walk, it’s just my knee. He was not willing to get help or use a walker or wheelchair. Then he walked slowly using his cane, making me afraid of him falling. I visualized him slowing everyone down when he was going to games

To some getting help or using a wheel chair is a sign of weakness. They see themselves in others eyes as frail and old, dependent and dying. It may be a matter of pride and ego..

Others take help to help themselves, By keeping pace with their surroundings, they keep the circle of life revolving by not obstructing fast-paced people around and after them.

Sometimes it is important not to get caught up in ones strength, as no one is watching our frail selves for its strength anyway. I think acceptance of ourselves, our limitations, frees us to live another day with pride of certainty.

" rare to share"

She was admitted with a non-healing wound on her leg. I saw her lying still in the hospital bed with her eyes closed. She looked peaceful, contrary to her angry looking leg wound.

She informed us that she had a rare condition and she was being cared for by nothing but the best amongst the best of doctors. She showed us her pictures taken with famous people. She understood that she had some sort of celebrity status because of her condition.

To some a rare to share condition gives them a celebrity status. Being part of a registry of rare diseases provides them inner strength to survive against the odds of limited available treatments.

I heard her proud voice as she shared her pictures, but as I listened to her closely she could not hide her sadness of being a medical celebrity, as it does not come with longevity or even pride.

I hoped that someday finding a cure may make her proud of being who she was once upon a time.

" being show cased in a hospital bed "

As I knocked on his door and entered in his room, I found him all dressed up, I complemented him on his attire. He smiled and said, may I help you.

He was suffering from memory issues, and since the passing away of his wife he was more lost. He was mostly living in the past. I have learned that people fall to their roots when they are in stress, or when experiencing physical or mental loss. Our true core comes out whether being naughty or nice, profane or kind, in words or deeds.

He was a salesman who sold merchandise, that’s what he did. I saw him at his best when it was least expected.

To some, hospital rooms and beds are show cases of patients on display. During our morning rounds we circle around them to discuss their care amongst ourselves and with them. Being a patient is being vulnerable, putting out oneself to be cared for by so many strangers.

Others know that they are the ones who are also on display to show what they have in them; care and share as they walk by seeing patients bed by bed, room by room lying in hospitals all over. They are the ones who make human show casing dignified with their respect of patients, knowing the importance of what will remain and what will be lost over time in the sacred doctor-patient encounters.

" a fly stuck in a room "

Have you ever seen a fly stuck in a room buzzing around, hitting the walls, doors and windows, and could not find a way out. I was that fly, he declared that day.

He was suffering from a substance addiction.  All resources were available to him; a supportive family and a caring society but he was lost.

One day he told me that some days he want desperately to recover and regain what was lost due to his addiction, but he could not. He was like that fly stuck in a room, wasting all wing power hitting the walls and windows not knowing that slowing down and walking on its legs under the door is the passage to freedom. 


To go across slowly on its leg and gain freedom without fast wings was within reach and a possibility, he stressed his point.

To some it never happens, they get lost as the causality of life’s challenges;  which  blind them to look across and go around.

Others stood up to challenges of life by slowing down, and wisely using power of wings to fly or legs to walk to reach to their destinations including  the most wanted place like a drug free zone.

" 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.

“hate destroys all so does love”

He was admitted with multiple medical issues but his emphysema was the one limiting his being. He was not able to eat, drink or sleep due to his fear of not being able to breath. The fear was real, so to speak.

As his days of life in the hospital passed by, his condition showed some signs of improvement

I saw he was able to eat, talk and sleep. One thing was missing ; no one had seen him smile. He had no visitors, no one to fall back on, no arms to circle around him. He was a loner and a complainer; he hates everything that was his reputation.

To some finding problems in each and every thing life offers is easy, that is their way of life. They are the ones who miss out on life's offerings pains and pleasures; as hate destroys all, so does love of hate.

Others cherish life with dignity with no place for hate, knowing that you become where you put your thoughts and it shows up on your face in the circle of life.