My Life as an African Gypsy

Returning from vacation I was tired and lazy, having a hard time gettin' going. You've probably experienced this whole coming home from vacation tired. Why is that? Seems to be common. Anyways, I think it was the 7 hour drive with a new puppy and the hours of playing he demands.

Nonetheless, Friday rolled around and it was time to go to the hospital. I got dressed at the last minute, kind of hoping for some reason not to go. None came.

Off we went.

I walked into the room of women in the Oncology department and looked around. I didn't think I knew anyone. Inside my heart sank. Not only was Anna not there, my friend I hoped to check on, I was going to have to start from square one... with everybody. Honestly, I had a fleeting thought of waving and leaving; however, Jon was having Bible study with some guys, so I was stuck, and I might as well be chatting with some women.

I mustered some energy and walked over to some beds. The television seemed to be extra loud this day, and the women seemed extra interested in the program, and not so interested in me. Just dandy. I breezed through 3 beds so quick I thought I might just run out of people to talk to.

And then I saw her.

Selena, a woman I had previously visited with was there receiving treatment. And she looked awful. Her breathing was so labored. I noticed she was sitting in order to obtain more air, but she was too tired to stay awake. She would nod off, nearly falling over until she woke herself up, many times noticing she had been drooling and quickly tried to wipe her mouth.

I went.

I could hardly understand her words. She has cancer somewhere in the throat area, which seems to have permanently impaired her speech, and with the lack of air combined, I could hardly make anything out. It didn't matter though, she didn't have energy to be talking.

I started by praying and placing my hand on her leg. But then I realized what I could do. I could try to help support her so she might get a little rest.

I hopped up onto the bed, remembering Emilia and how she liked to put her head on my shoulder as I faced her, giving her support for her weak body, which in the same way could not lay down comfortably.

So I positioned myself, put my knee up for her to rest her arm, propped my arm on the other side of her body across her legs, and I patted my shoulder, telling her to put her head there.

There was no hesitation. No thinking to herself, "I hardly know this strange white girl." She only knew she was tired and weak and she needed someone... anyone. I wrapped one arm around her, trying to help her feel secure, while marveling in my mind how she could be so skinny. I could feel every rib.

The nurses tried to tell her to lay down, looking a me like I shouldn't be doing that. I explained that it was hard for her to breathe laying down, so we were fine. The women in the room stared and people walking through turned their heads.

I didn't care. And neither did she.

At one point she decided for herself to try and lay down. While laying there, she reached out her hand without the IV. After a second I realized she wanted me to hold her hand, so there we sat hand in hand.

When I left, I kissed her face and promised my return the next day and my prayers through the night. I honestly was unsure if she would make it until my return. But I prayed.

The next day Selena was miraculously improved, eating and talking. We enjoyed our visit as I shared with her my fear the previous day and gave thanks to the Lord for helping.
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So this experience got me thinking just how natural it is to desire touch and the nearness of people during our moments of suffering and pain. Culture doesn't really seem to matter. Our humanness reaches out and grabs for someone.

I am thankful that the Lord has allowed this stubborn, many times lazy, girl to be that "someone" for a few people here. I am humbled.