I write this with teary eyes, and I am not saying it figuratively.
Sometimes I find myself thinking that “I didn’t have an opportunity to do X”, or “I didn’t have Y available in order to do X”. Yes, it’s a dangerous mind-game of chess that I play quite too often. It’s a game of logic brain vs. emotional brain. I also notice that a lot of people I know play this game. You know the moves: “It’s Nixon/Ford/Carter/Regan/Bush1/Clinton/Bush2/Obama’s fault”, “it’s the IRS’ fault”, “it’s the economy/illuminati/school system’s fault”. In the collective mind, those people or entities at fault steal our potential one way or another.
Whatever.
Something popped up in my mind today, a not-so distant memory that made me think. When I was seventeen I had to undergo open heart surgery. It sounds scarier than what it actually was and, as crazy at it might sound, I think it was even an interesting experience. Doctor said “we have to operate”, and so they did. Fifteen days at the hospital, I admit that I wasn’t scared for a single second. Not one.
I don’t remember much about the first time I woke up after the surgery. My parents said that I waved them hello from the ICU glass, but I can’t recall it. The first memory I have is about two things. Thirst, and death.
I woke up as thirsty as a person hunted by sandworms on the planet Dune. I would’ve paid anything to get just a sip of water, but that’s not important. The other thing I remember is this boy, on a bed next to me. I think he was two or three, I spoke with his parents the night before my surgery, they were glad that the boy was receiving the much needed care. I remember that they were talking with the parents of this other boy, five-ish, that needed heart and liver transplant. They were looking tired as only a parents can be, but smiling. Playing with their boy, trying to cheer him up, actively creating normality in an uncanny environment . Both sets of parents were enjoying the time with their kids; now, I realize that they were optimizing their time, squeezing any possible juice from each and any second they had. I didn’t understand at the time why they were let sleeping in the room with their kids, but now I do: Time.
As I said, the two year old boy was lying on a bed next to me in ICU. What I remember is that nurses were around his bed, and so were a couple of doctors. I don’t recall their faces or what they were saying. It’s just a big shadowy memory, rendered more enigmatic by the drugs and my post-op recovery. Then, I fell asleep and woke up next to an empty bed. The boy, I had found out, died. Surgery was too much.
I had never seen his parents again, but I still feel their sorrow.
What struck me today is that while I complain about not having time, well, I had it. I don’t know how much time is left, but I had it and I STILL have it. I had time to go to school, I had time to find a job, to get laid off, and find a new job. I had time to build a family, and to have two kids of my own. I had time to find this forum, and read the books I wanted to. I had all this time, and I still have it. The boy didn’t. He didn’t have time to learn to talk, he didn’t have time to go to school. Heck, he barely had time to get some self-consciousness. What happened to HIM is “not having time,” or not having the opportunities. He didn’t have any opportunity, just a chance to be saved. That’s all he had, together with two loving parents.
If we write here, we had and we have our opportunities. Maybe we don’t have the right opportunity to be the next Bill Gates, or even to open a business, or to improve our lives. But we have our opportunity to try, and better ourselves.
Today I began believing to that is my duty honor that kid – and any other kid like him – by doing my best to USE my time and opportunities. The tools are there, it’s just me that I have to pick ‘em up and use them. He would be right to ask me, by the gates of Heaven why I wasted MY time while he would’ve given everything to spend just another week at his parents’ house.
Thank you for your time reading this, and I am sorry if it doesn't make any sense. It's hard to express such feelings.
-w
PS: I saw the other boy, the one that needed two transplants, about a month after I left the hospital, at a follow up visit. The surgeon was a nice guy and made me walk in the patients area to say hello to the great nurses there. The two parents and the kid were still there, happy to have a liver donor (think about it; we are “happy” if our team wins the championship. They were Happy that their kid found a liver). I don’t know if he’ss still alive, but if he is I hope that the he is finding his way to conquer his slice of the world.
Sometimes I find myself thinking that “I didn’t have an opportunity to do X”, or “I didn’t have Y available in order to do X”. Yes, it’s a dangerous mind-game of chess that I play quite too often. It’s a game of logic brain vs. emotional brain. I also notice that a lot of people I know play this game. You know the moves: “It’s Nixon/Ford/Carter/Regan/Bush1/Clinton/Bush2/Obama’s fault”, “it’s the IRS’ fault”, “it’s the economy/illuminati/school system’s fault”. In the collective mind, those people or entities at fault steal our potential one way or another.
Whatever.
Something popped up in my mind today, a not-so distant memory that made me think. When I was seventeen I had to undergo open heart surgery. It sounds scarier than what it actually was and, as crazy at it might sound, I think it was even an interesting experience. Doctor said “we have to operate”, and so they did. Fifteen days at the hospital, I admit that I wasn’t scared for a single second. Not one.
I don’t remember much about the first time I woke up after the surgery. My parents said that I waved them hello from the ICU glass, but I can’t recall it. The first memory I have is about two things. Thirst, and death.
I woke up as thirsty as a person hunted by sandworms on the planet Dune. I would’ve paid anything to get just a sip of water, but that’s not important. The other thing I remember is this boy, on a bed next to me. I think he was two or three, I spoke with his parents the night before my surgery, they were glad that the boy was receiving the much needed care. I remember that they were talking with the parents of this other boy, five-ish, that needed heart and liver transplant. They were looking tired as only a parents can be, but smiling. Playing with their boy, trying to cheer him up, actively creating normality in an uncanny environment . Both sets of parents were enjoying the time with their kids; now, I realize that they were optimizing their time, squeezing any possible juice from each and any second they had. I didn’t understand at the time why they were let sleeping in the room with their kids, but now I do: Time.
As I said, the two year old boy was lying on a bed next to me in ICU. What I remember is that nurses were around his bed, and so were a couple of doctors. I don’t recall their faces or what they were saying. It’s just a big shadowy memory, rendered more enigmatic by the drugs and my post-op recovery. Then, I fell asleep and woke up next to an empty bed. The boy, I had found out, died. Surgery was too much.
I had never seen his parents again, but I still feel their sorrow.
What struck me today is that while I complain about not having time, well, I had it. I don’t know how much time is left, but I had it and I STILL have it. I had time to go to school, I had time to find a job, to get laid off, and find a new job. I had time to build a family, and to have two kids of my own. I had time to find this forum, and read the books I wanted to. I had all this time, and I still have it. The boy didn’t. He didn’t have time to learn to talk, he didn’t have time to go to school. Heck, he barely had time to get some self-consciousness. What happened to HIM is “not having time,” or not having the opportunities. He didn’t have any opportunity, just a chance to be saved. That’s all he had, together with two loving parents.
If we write here, we had and we have our opportunities. Maybe we don’t have the right opportunity to be the next Bill Gates, or even to open a business, or to improve our lives. But we have our opportunity to try, and better ourselves.
Today I began believing to that is my duty honor that kid – and any other kid like him – by doing my best to USE my time and opportunities. The tools are there, it’s just me that I have to pick ‘em up and use them. He would be right to ask me, by the gates of Heaven why I wasted MY time while he would’ve given everything to spend just another week at his parents’ house.
Thank you for your time reading this, and I am sorry if it doesn't make any sense. It's hard to express such feelings.
-w
PS: I saw the other boy, the one that needed two transplants, about a month after I left the hospital, at a follow up visit. The surgeon was a nice guy and made me walk in the patients area to say hello to the great nurses there. The two parents and the kid were still there, happy to have a liver donor (think about it; we are “happy” if our team wins the championship. They were Happy that their kid found a liver). I don’t know if he’ss still alive, but if he is I hope that the he is finding his way to conquer his slice of the world.
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