the chosen one
3 minute read
walking and learning
John's brother, dad and I watched in quiet disbelief as Samuel fetched a walker from the hallway and brought it to the side of the bed. It had the tennis balls on the feet just like you would see someone in a nursing home use, and it was hard to accept that John, at the age of 19, would need this to walk. Samuel slowly explained to John what he wanted him to do and John seemed to be trying to process the information, although it was hard to tell how much was actually connecting with his brain. He kept looking at me with my phone poised to capture this epic event, as if he wanted to tell me to put it away, but no words came out of his mouth. Regardless, I kept my phone at the ready - hoping this was going to be worth documenting.
You could see a look of absolute determination on John's face as Samuel tightened up the strap around his waist even more and then helped place his hands on the handles of the walker. Samuel pulled John straight up and it was a good thing he was a solid block of muscle because there was no way John could've stood on his own, even with the walker supporting him. His legs looked like toothpicks poking out from under his teal hospital gown and it was hard to believe they would be able to even support his scrawny 115 pound body.
Samuel instructed him to just stay there for a minute to get his bearings, and to see if John could move his toes a bit to make sure he had control over his legs and feet. We saw his big toes wiggle a tiny bit which was a good sign and then Samuel told John to pick up his right foot and put it down a bit in front of where it currently was.
This seemed like a lot of information for him to process and John slowly, blankly, slid his gaze from Samuel to the ground and then to the walker as if he was trying to put together a really complex puzzle. I was afraid that he all of a sudden didn't remember where he was again but then we saw his right foot slowwwwwwly slide forward on the ground about a half-inch and stop. Samuel encouraged him to do the same on the left, and miraculously, with a LOT of help, sweat and patience, John painstakingly shuffled his way the long six feet from the side of the bed to the door of his room and back to his bed. I had tears in my eyes watching what looked like a very painful exercise, but was so outrageously proud of my boy for doing this just one day after his breathing tube had been removed. It seemed impossible but it was a glimmer of hope that I hadn't seen coming and it was so welcomed.
Over the course of the week on the stroke unit John had so many caring, talented people taking care of him and helping him re-learn everything from swallowing and eating to telling time, writing and using a phone. During one night-shift we heard a soft knocking on the door and when it opened there was a massive hulk of a man in scrubs coming toward us. He had to have been almost 7 feet, 300+ pounds and zero body fat. His name was Sal and he was from Gambia, we learned over the next few days. Sal was the kind of guy whose looks were so intimidating it was hard to believe he was a nurse. He was strong beyond belief and had a kind, caring nature. He also had John's respect because he told us the story of how he came to be working as a nurse in a hospital in Seattle.
It turns out Sal had moved from Gambia to the east coast with his mother and siblings when he was in middle school and had eventually become the top Xanax dealer in Maryland. His mother finally forced him to move to Seattle to live with his aunt but he continued with his dealing career regardless. Eventually he got a girl pregnant and suddenly realized he needed to live a better life. He had street cred and after hearing John's story Sal looked him straight in the eyes and said. "You are the chosen one. No-one lives through what you did. You're here for a reason." I couldn't have agreed more and thanked God for sending this unlikely giant angel to us - at just the right time.