Three days later as she struggled for life, she spoke her last words to me: “Comfort,
don’t ever leave me." I nodded. I was holding her. I didn’t want to cry.
Then she died. Tears flowed freely. After one week, she was buried in the city
cemetery. Wreaths of flowers covered her grave which was marked with the words:
“Here lies one who waits upon the lord.” Darkness fell on the cemetery. And we
went home to mourn our beloved Hope.
I worked for Hope as an attendant being a nursing-school student. I was
taken aback when I first saw this woman living inside a tank called a
respirator.
At first, I could not bring myself to ask her how she came into this. As
time went by, however, we became familiar and talked freely together. Then one
day when her husband came to see how she was doing, I asked the question
directing it to no one in particular. I thought that her husband would provide
the answer, but instead, it was Hope that started her story.
“One black winter morning in 1948—thirty six years after I was born in Los
Angles—I discovered that I was stricken with the deadly polio.” She swallowed
hard and continued. "Things got bad quickly. From flu to paralysis and
then to the hospital where I added up to several polio patients on the waiting
list." She wanted to scratch herself but since she could not do it
herself, she called my attention to it, which I did. And then she resumed her
story.
“I was afraid. I thought that I was going to die. For I had to lie on my
back on the floor of the crowded hospital waiting for an Iron lung. But it was
long in coming. Breathing was hard. Then one day, I passed out. I did not know
what happened afterward. Job will tell you the rest of the story.
“When Hope fainted, I didn’t think that she would come back to life again,"
the husband continued. "The doctors must have been some kind of magicians
because after one week, my wife started to breathe again. And before long, she
was placed in the next available respirator, much to our relief.
“These Iron lungs were at first thought to be a temporary invention—helping
patients to recover—and breathe on their own later. But we discovered that the
opposite was the case. Because these breathing machines were to become the
permanent homes of many polio sufferers.
“Knowing this, I brought her home with the machine. And she has been living
inside it for the past three decades,” he ended and left the room, trying to
hide his tears. I tried to fight back mine too. I was trying to really
understand what it meant to lie on one’s back in one spot for over thirty
years!
Her faith in God kept her going through the years. She was a very devout
Christian and she believed that her suffering was only for a time. And she
firmly believed that if she dies, she will be resurrected to live again, pointing
out what Jesus told Lazarus’ sister, Martha at John 11: 25 .
I must confess that I was not a Christian when I started working for her.
She was the one who preached to me and converted me to Christianity. And that
was what she did to numerous other curious passersby and strangers who came to
see her. Instead of being encouraged, she was the one that encouraged her
sympathizers; and her faith in the Bible made many to become Christians. She
was always praying to God in behalf of herself and others; and despite her
condition, she was full of compassion for people. In fact, her courage inspired
all who knew her.
Hope’s only regret was in not being present at the wedding ceremonies of her
two children. For she was in the respirator when the two teenagers became
adults, married and had children. She only saw the wedding pictures.
In fact, it could be said of her that she
was a cat with nine lives. Because on top of this, she had an emergency
appendectomy without anesthetic when her appendix burst, endured cancer, had
major surgeries and chronic skin disorders.
But there is a time for every affair under the heaven. Even a time to live
and a time to die. So one day she went for her seventh surgery. And after that
she was removed from the Iron lung for the first time in 37 years, attached to
a modern respirator using her tracheotomy, and placed on a hospital bed. She
was not getting enough air. Fear gripped her. She knew she was going to die.
Twenty years have passed now. I have since then grown from a lady to a
married woman with a family. Perhaps she has been forgotten. But I still visit
the grave yard on every anniversary of her death to lay wreaths of flowers on
her tomb.
Today is another anniversary of her death. And I take a bouquet of flowers
to lay on my friend’s tomb. As I enter the cemetery, I raise my eyes toward the
gate and I see the words of Solomon at Ecclesiastes chapter 1 verse 2: THE
GREATEST VANITY! EVERYTHING IS VANITY.
I walk ahead to the marked tomb with the epitaph: HERE LIES ONE WHO WAITS
UPON THE LORD. I lay my wreath of flowers on Hope’s tomb and sit to think of
this loved one who suffered and died, waiting for the Lord.
I dream of her last moments.“Comfort, don’t ever leave me,” she
said to me as she struggled on her death bed. I held her hands, trying to fight
away tears from my eyes. Her struggle became weaker and weaker. And then
drawing a deep long breath, her eyes fixed on my face, she died. The hospital
attendants wheeled her away to the morgue. And I thought that the world had
ended.
I was awoken from my meditation by a flash of lightning and the roaring of
the thunder. I look up. It is going to rain. I gather myself and kiss goodbye
to Hope as I hurry home. As I go, I remember her last words and I was ashamed
that I was leaving my friend. On my way, I walk pass the tombs of the governor,
the slave, the Indian and the war veteran—all vanities. I step outside the
cemetery, look back and see those words again: THE GREATEST VANITY! EVERY THING
IS VANITY. But I remember Hope used to talk of a bright future in paradise
where sickness and suffering will be gone. I was encouraged. So life may not be
in vain after all.
She took ill one black winter morning. My resolve now is to be faithful to
God so that I will meet my friend during the resurrection in the coming new
world. Then one bright summer evening we would gladly hold hands together as we
walk through the gardens of paradise. And I will say to her: “I’m here, Hope.
You see, I never left you!"
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