Chapter Three Light From Angles
Many Chinese in H city came to see me, throwing away my old flowers and replacing with fresh ones. We chatted about kids, jobs, rising prices of gas, foods, and etc. as old friends although I had not heard about before my accident. Most of time, my visitors could not read my lips, and we were frustrated when I had to whisper again and again until I was out of breath, and the wives had to put their ears on my mouths and they still could not understand me. However, I could sense the kindness and consideration from them, I was happy. What else should I expect?
Peter, the vice president of Chinese Association in H city, heard of the problems of my arms and hands from other visitors, and asked them to massage my arms and hands to help the circulation of blood. A new battle started, whenever a couple visited me, the wife, whether knowing massage or not, rubbed my arms and hands with warm rugs, and the husband became the coach.
“You should rub her arm this way, look, this way.” He demonstrated on his arms, seeming to know a lot. I believed he did not know either.
They were so funny. I was made laugh, quite laugh, forgetting my pain, forgetting my accident, forgetting various problems I had.
“What happened to your arms and hands? Has anybody touched them?” My nurse Katie screamed when she came to give me medicines, holding my arms and hands in the air. I looked to them, swelling, they were swelling.
“Has anybody touched them?” She asked, looking into my eyes.
“Yes, my friends.” I answered.
About 8pm, Katie came in with a couple of my friends and showed them my swelling arms and hands: “Please don’t rub them any more, and also please tell other visitors not to rub them any more.”
My friends looked at me with guilty expression, “maybe we used too much strength.”
“Never mind. This is only surfacial phenomina. I believed what you have done is helpful.”
Massage plan was aborted, and I became the only fighter.
After my friends left, I resumed the battle with God against the paralysis, my finger exercise, “bend, bend, bend…”
My nurses came to give me medicines three times a day, and some time they came to check me and give me pain medicines when I asked for. Most of time I was left by myself, I could not wait for her to come, as if my pain would be released as long as she talked or looked to me. Late in the morning, the cleaning person came to mob my floor. He was so focused on his job, did not lift up his head to look at the biggest part in the cube, me, who fixed eyes on him from the moment he showed up, hoping him to say something, even one word. It seemed that the floor and his mob were the only things in his world.
Time was moving on so slowly, so slowly, more slowly than a snail.
On the top of the tall building outside my window were two black birds talking to each other, walking towards each other, passing by, and away from each other, and then turning back, walking towards each other. They were there almost every time I looked out. Were they husband and wife? What were they talking about? I wished that they noticed a woman in the bed inside a nearby building had been watching them for a while, wanted to be their friend. It would be great if they flew to me, landing on my window. I believed they did not know some people admire their freedom, admire their happy life.
How many people in this world can be so happy as this pair of birds? I had not thought about this subject for many years, love had been far away from me many years ago. As a single mom, the most important thing for me was to keep my business, make enough money to pay the living for my daughter and me , and make sure she is safe. In the mean while, as a professional woman, especially a professional Chinese woman, the center of my life is my daughter, and I believe that to a large extent, her future is determined by her education level. I need to save enough money to support her undergraduate study, and I don’t want her to worry about financial problems. I am the one who should bear the burden until she starts her graduate school.
I thought of the marriages of my own, my coworkers, my friends, neighbors… Some people get married for money, for jobs, nice looking, for political career, or for love, but once their goals are achieved, or the things they expected from marriage disappear for various reasons, how many couples can resolve or are willing to resolve their conflicts and love each other until the end of their life? I started to question the claims of some pastors that Jesus died on the cross for our sin, and his blood washed our sin, so we will not be punished as long as we believe in God. Does God forgive us for the sin of our ancestors Ethan and his wife? After they offended God by stealing the golden apples on the wisdom tree which God did not allow, they did not love each other any more, Ethan stopped calling his wife “the bone in the center of my bone, the fresh in the middle of my fresh”, instead, he accused her “that woman instigated me to eat the golden apple”. God punished them by stopping them from loving each other, the man has to work hard all his life in the field, and woman has to suffer from giving birth to children. Does God stop punishing human after Jesus died for us? Why have we had to work hard to survive, struggle for living? Why do so many couples cheat each other, or accuse each other, and end up with divorce even if they do have true love at the moment of wedding? Are we the things which receive most bless from God? Is it common in other animals that couples fight against each other?
After a week of finger exercise, I sensed a slight movement of my middle finger on the left hand. My friend Jassica was so excited of the good news that she ran to the floor doctor at the nurse station.
“Dr. Lee, Shalley can move her finger! She can move her finger!”
“Really? That is terrific.” Dr. Lee came in with her assistant.
“Shalley, show the doctor your movement.” Holding my left hand in the air, Jassica asked me:
“Bend your middle finger, bend.”
I focused all my strength on the middle finger of my left hand, “bend, bend”. I ordered myself.
“I don’t see any movement, it is still as before.” After watching closely for a couple of minutes, Dr. Lee said. Then she asked some routine questions and went back to the nurse station.
“I do feel some movement, some strength, very weak, though. Don’t give up, keeping on hard work. You will make it.” Jassica said.
“That is also what I think. Thank you.” I whispered.
I kept on my finger exercise whenever I was left by myself: “bend, bend, bend, …”
One day my nurse brought an Africa-American girl to me, and told me that the girl would bath me. Because of the accident, I had not bathed myself for over three weeks and I felt echis everywhere on my body, especially my face and head. I could not scratch myself, and people could not understand my lips, plus I did not feel comfortable to ask friends to scratch me. I really needed a bath.
I would not forget how I enjoyed the bath and I like the strength she used to rub my body, as she was scratching me. I felt so comfortable, although the pain never stopped torturing me. She seemed to enjoy bathing me, singing happy songs while she was working. I would not forget her voice either, and it was a delighting sound.
“I will give you a bath tomorrow, have a good day.” She said before she stepped out of my cube.
She collected trash and also bathed patients, and she always sang songs while working. When I heard her song, I knew she was coming to bath me. A creek of happiness flew into my heart, as a stream of warm light shot into a dark, cold room. Some time, I thought maybe she was an angle sent by God.