Sitting up in a hospital bed - The Regency Hospital in Masai, Johor Bahru, Malaysia - recalling the surgical procedures of the earlier hour of the day: a gastroscopy and a colonoscopy, it feels good to know that all has gone as planned and no malignant growths have been found within and beneath the surface. I slipped into a shallow sleep due to the medication administered, and only woke up when it was virtually all over. That was fortuitous. I had inwardly smiled at the Nurse's repeated (Malaysian-speak) "Sorry lahs", as she failed to find a good vein for the sedative injection, her running off to find a roll of toilet tissue paper for me and her frequent, reassuring "Don't worry la" words of comfort.
One feels vulnerable in a hospital bed. There is no tangible strength that goes with it. But there is a kind of vulnerability which takes as its source the power of those great souls who have allowed themselves to be vulnerable for a greater good. Rosa Parks, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa to name but a few. Doors open when we make ourselves vulnerable. Connections are made between people, love grows, spirit is nourished. How divorced this kind of connection seems to that which (most of) our political leaders seek to nurture and envelope us in.
No comments:
Post a Comment