When do we pause to help others?When it doesn't take away anything from us?When we're abounding in plenty and "helping" won't take away anything from our hoarding? The hoarding may be physical comfort or emotional stability but we guard it fiercely and only stretch out a hand if it won't change our equilibrium .
The Bible parable about the woman who had only two pence and gave away all she had to God's temple reminds us that God acknowledges our giving the most when we give despite knowing it could make us get out of our comfort zone.
This morning,after a rather exhausting resuscitation of a man who came in hemorrhagic shock after a torn diaphragm and liver laceration, I walked out of theatre at 4 am hoping to get some coffee and biscuits for my exhausted but upbeat duty teàm. I needed to carry back 7 cups of coffee and we didn't have a flask. The man at the coffee stall quickly squeezed 5 of them into an empty tea bag carton and the other 2 styrofoam cups into an empty plastic cover. I gingerly balanced one in each hand and proceeded towards theatre. The walk took me across the emergency department. All along the path were huddled groups of patient's relatives, trying to keep themselves warm as a chilly breeze swept through. It occurred to me that they were probably numbed by the sudden sickness of their loved one inside the ER and the biting cold was probably the least of their worries. I walked past, remembering the swirl of uncertainty that preoccupied my mind when I was waiting outside an 'alien ' hospital's ICU just a few months back, hoping Appa would be back to form soon enough. Back then, I was thinking only about Appa and the rest of my family as we struggled to fathom what had just happened and the hazy stretch ahead of us.
I walked past a group of burka-clad women crouched on the edge of the walkway and an elderly lady in their midst called out to me ,"I help me?" with a pleasant smile. I was so taken aback. My struggle that minute was just in trying to not spill the 7 cups of coffee in my hands. Hers was probably the sadness of a loved one acutely ill. Yet she reached out to me to help, even in her moment of despair. That wasn't all. As I politely smiled, thanked her and made my way ahead I was wondering if I would have asked had I been in her place. She was probably used to being hidden behind a burka in a public place, shying away from the strangers around. She didn't speak the English language too well. And yet she reached out to me to offer help.
"I help me?" - 3 words that I hope will always remain in my mind so that when the time comes,I may pay it forward.
This morning,after a rather exhausting resuscitation of a man who came in hemorrhagic shock after a torn diaphragm and liver laceration, I walked out of theatre at 4 am hoping to get some coffee and biscuits for my exhausted but upbeat duty teàm. I needed to carry back 7 cups of coffee and we didn't have a flask. The man at the coffee stall quickly squeezed 5 of them into an empty tea bag carton and the other 2 styrofoam cups into an empty plastic cover. I gingerly balanced one in each hand and proceeded towards theatre. The walk took me across the emergency department. All along the path were huddled groups of patient's relatives, trying to keep themselves warm as a chilly breeze swept through. It occurred to me that they were probably numbed by the sudden sickness of their loved one inside the ER and the biting cold was probably the least of their worries. I walked past, remembering the swirl of uncertainty that preoccupied my mind when I was waiting outside an 'alien ' hospital's ICU just a few months back, hoping Appa would be back to form soon enough. Back then, I was thinking only about Appa and the rest of my family as we struggled to fathom what had just happened and the hazy stretch ahead of us.
I walked past a group of burka-clad women crouched on the edge of the walkway and an elderly lady in their midst called out to me ,"I help me?" with a pleasant smile. I was so taken aback. My struggle that minute was just in trying to not spill the 7 cups of coffee in my hands. Hers was probably the sadness of a loved one acutely ill. Yet she reached out to me to help, even in her moment of despair. That wasn't all. As I politely smiled, thanked her and made my way ahead I was wondering if I would have asked had I been in her place. She was probably used to being hidden behind a burka in a public place, shying away from the strangers around. She didn't speak the English language too well. And yet she reached out to me to offer help.
"I help me?" - 3 words that I hope will always remain in my mind so that when the time comes,I may pay it forward.
Dug this entry from my journal. Had written it down sometime in 2014-15 when I was working as a junior consultant in CMC.
ReplyDeleteVery moving. Loved it.
ReplyDelete