Sunday, January 18, 2009
water
it wasn't until friday that i was able to realize the significance of being able to give my grandmother the last drink of water she was to have before her death. although i don't know how the sisters know, they call this man ashok. i say man because they also told me they think he is around 23 years old, although my guess was no older than 15. his temperature is high and his eyes as wide as the base of a snowman. as i tilt the tin cup and watch the water spill into his mouth, something happens. what i've been thinking of as my subtle disengagement/practical disposition is destroyed, along with a little more of my esophageal lining. and since my toilet paper is locked away in my bag, behind the ancient lock with the other bags, i leave behind dribblings of kimchi fried rice on the toilet seat. one of the sisters asks me if i am praying and i tell her no, that i'm not feeling well. she tells me that i could leave for the day or go sit on the roof for a while. it finally hit me, the reality of it all. after seriously considering busting out, i went back to ashok. i tried feeding him and continued giving him water. his eyes surveyed the room. where did he come from? what does he think of all these weird looking people who are now taking care of him? after rubbing a cold towel on his face, much water and some food (with the help of the sister) we sat him up and he suddenly came back to this world. he picked up the cup and drank on his own. he scratched his limbs. everyone danced around his bed, and sang 'miracle! i was moved and felt happy and fortunate that i had stayed. later that night i told myself, without fully believing it, that even if he was already dead i had experienced something sacred. tonight i accompanied the sisters to a shelter for girls that they've picked up off the street. we gave them candy and played games. i was in charge of bowling. for pins we used half empty water bottles. the ball was a harder version of the stress balls i remember them giving children at the dentists office. we all had an amazing time, and their faces brought joy to my heart. after dinner i found out that ashok had died.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Pleas don't stop documenting these experiences.
ReplyDeleteearly in his illness, american medicine may have had something to offer ashok. what's crazy, though, is that at the end of his life, he would likely not have had a person to sit by his bed and do what you did, with the care that you obviously did it. as bego said, please continue to share. i'll remember this...
ReplyDeleteyou know, i wanted to say something about your puking, but how do i make it fit after reading the whole entry. what you're going thru over there, is so heavy that i intentionally ignore it because i'll crumble under its weight if i do pay attention to it. How are you doing it? How is it changing you? Who are you going to be when you come back?
ReplyDeletemiss you!