December 26th, 2013.
40 days in an ICU in that pulse with life, a torture that intensivists and all the team tried to relief day and night on this long and thorny path. 20 days under mechanical ventilation, ringing all the time, a kind of torture… What I never imagined was that machine breathed for me.
I never understood what happened, why I could not move in that bed.I remember that nurse that even without be able drinking water, she gave water for calm my thrist, or that another one sitting in my bed, picking my hands and spoking all the nights, because only with a look she knew what I needed every moment. Or the doctor who raised the blind telling me “Look, what a wonderful day!”.
We believe that we have our life assured, until disease arrives and makes you stop in your path.
In the ICU I learned, fought and the team also fought for me. They taught me that nothing in the history has been done without illusion and hope. They taught me also that in the worst conditions is when you meet the best people. With them I learned that although everyone can not be cured, everyone can be cared.
In the moment that you are a disease or you are “the patient of the BOX 13”, your identity as person is out. I had the luck of knowing people that had the courage of approach to my suffering to transform it in health. I learned that there are games that we must play to the end, because battles are win or lost, but we have always to fight.
In that room I learned that the time is a thief that steals you all what you are not capable of living, many times so dead and others so necessary. In that room I understood that almost nothing sometimes is much.
December and eleven months more… Because in the second opportunity, you do not try to be so perfect. Everyone should have a second chance: for life, for love, to smile and enjoy.
not losing is already winning