The hours are in a jumble as we mark off the 25th day since my mother fell into a coma. Old days merged with new ones as we rushed about from ultrasound to ct scan, from quarter exams to grocery lists, from hope to despair, and some sleep in between.
The neurologist already explained to me that the brain damage my mother sustained now seems irreversible. The surgeon told us that she has already developed resistance to all possible antibiotics. Her stump is yet to heal as the bed sore on her back continues to spread. I steal a look at her sunken face and my gaze is drawn to her eyes, slightly open and staring blankly at the wall just above my head. For the millionth time in recent days, I am gripped with deep mourning for my mother that never seems to end.
I can’t help but remember that earlier, I was just looking at another face, much like my son’s when he was six, a face that stirred a different but equally intense feeling in me.
The young boy met me cheerfully at the door, his eyes filled with laughter as he told his mother lying on the hospital bed, “They’re here.” His toothless smile touched me simply because I realized that he did not know who I was and why I was there.
The woman slowly got up from the bed and I immediately recognized her. So this was the nurse who made a mistake on the doctor’s prescription orders, the main reason why my mother is on her own hospital bed fighting for her life, several rooms away.
I learned this morning that the nurse was also confined in the hospital due to depression and anxiety. She was full of guilt over what had happened to Nanay because of the error she had committed. She was concerned for her parents who were worried that this was the tragic end to their daughter’s dreams. More than anything else, she was overcome with fear that I would send her to jail and she did not know what would happen to her two young sons.
I can still remember that it was about this time last year when I asked God to reveal Himself to me as a loving Father, one who would grant me something that I did not have to work for, simply because He loved me. Soon after that I was off to Manila with Gian for the Starstruck 3 run. As the months unfolded, I watched this sick and sad young boy who had nothing much going for him slowly fight his way through adversity to lay hold of his dreams. I profoundly and totally understood that this was what I was asking for: a revelation of the magnitude of God’s grace, of the favor that He chooses to bestow on anyone, not because that person deserves it but because He, in His sovereignty, wants to give it.
As I sat across the nurse in her hospital room today, that experience was all that I could think of. In truth, I very well know that I could have easily been this woman, her young sons my own young children. I could have easily made a mistake that would jeopardize their future. The humbling thought was why I wanted her to understand what I already knew. That mistakes can break us down and strip us of dignity but thankfully that is not where it ends. In fact, that is exactly where the amazing grace of God begins. I told her that I had long forgiven her and if Nanay were awake, I was sure she would have done the same. Now it was her turn to forgive herself.
Suddenly I wanted to laugh because here I was consoling this woman, rubbing her back as she fought back her tears. It was so crazy and yet there I was. I could easily imagine my relatives berating me and branding me a fool, chewing my ears off for throwing a potentially lucrative civil suit down the drain.
When it was time to leave, Bong and I prayed for her and her family. I told her to come and visit Nanay soon so that she could say what she needed to say and move on with her life. She said she was afraid of what she might see but I firmly told her to do it for her sake as she might never have the chance again.
I stepped out of her room, aware of the small group of nurses that had gathered outside. As soon as they saw me, they started pretending to be busy with whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. I am sure they rushed into the nurse’s room as soon as I left, wanting to know what I had to say to their friend.
Bong and I walked back to Nanay’s room silently thinking about everything that had just transpired. For a moment, I was apprehensive that my gesture of forgiveness might turn out to be foolish as the hospital might think I was backing down from my earlier demands. Then, I remembered that little boy, the nurse’s son, who smiled up at me when he opened the door because he thought I was a visitor with goodies for his mom. I know I did the right thing.
After all, at some point in our lives, we have all been recipients of God’s grace, I, maybe even more than others.
And so here we are, two women a few rooms from each other and yet worlds apart, torn for very different reasons. One is a mother who fears for her children’s future, one is a daughter who mourns for her mother’s past. Our individual turmoils have somehow bound us together in ways that only eyes of faith can see.
