My father’s eyes

A while ago I was in a plane that was taking me to Romania. It was 3 a clock in the morning when I boarded the plane and didn’t know what to think, what to expect..I just knew my father was in the hospital in coma…Little pieces of movies,  scenes where someone dear was in the hospital connected to machines and was this one person on the side trying to decide if should or not turn off machines, were keep coming to me.

Coma?? I heard about coma in the movies! You must understand that I am one of these persons that doesn’t watch the news. I cry for everything. This movies I remember I don’t know how they ended , because I didn’t wait to see! So ..was hard to deal even with just the word.

After that plane ride, I had a loooong train ride. Enought time to think of everything, I torture myself all the way, remembering my dad and many things that maybe I didn’t do right and I upset him. I thought of these things on purpose, I wanted to feel pain, I was preparing my self for the worse, training pain so when i get there I will be strong. I knew I had to be, was nobody else there but me. And my dad..in coma. Thinking back I just realized how much I respected my father. He didn’t need to scream or..spank, he just needed to look at me. AND..his look was never mad, he was looking at me in the most calm and understanding way. I never wanted to hurt my father. His eyes would tell if he was hurt or unhappy with what I did. Behind that understanding , was my lesson, my lesson of life. And  I know that everything I did in life , maybe sometimes , I did it unconsciously , was to make my father proud of me, to never hurt him. In my path…and it was a long, bizarre  path, I’ve  always looked up to him, I’ve always needed his eyes, his look to confirm it was ok. In the same train ride I realized that was probably the reason why I tried to always have him close to me and so did him. That train was the same one that used to take me to work on the ships..away from everyone. My father used to drive me to catch the train, used to hear me cry and look at me saying: “Don’t go, you  don’t have to do this!”

But I had to go..of course I did. I had a child and I had to be strong so my father won’t suffer for us not having everything we need to have a normal life..

For as much as I was trying to think positive, I felt like I was going to a funeral. My sister was calling and she was crying, my aunts were all crying, my mom even! was crying. She sent a priest to the hospital…Yes everybody was on that side. On this other side it was me.Closing my eyes I could see myself in my meditations, surrounded by white and trying to keep my chakras clean , releasing the bad vibes into the universe to be destroyed, while reiki with God where trying to help me. After about 6 hours I got of the train and took the car until the hospital. Even now,  I get stock in my thoughts when I see the door, the glass door of the room where my father was. They eventually let me in , I was noisy ..they showed me the door and I knew that was no way out of there and whatever  strength I built until now, that was it. I took a deep breath and went trough the door. He was. ..in  a diaper with his hands and feet tied up, white..very white , with his mouth  open breathing noisy..he was not going to die, he was left there to die..

I was so upset..I didn’t know what to do…His lips and mouth were so dried and  you could almost see blood ready to burst! I closed the door . cleaned his mouth, wet his lips..talked to him.I felt mad at him.That was my conversation..me and my sleeping dad.

“I can’t believe you are just letting them do this to you!

This is not ok.They won’t even let me stay here and take of you, its intensive therapy so I can’t stay!

No,no,no you have to do something and I am serrios. I got it..I am scared now, you scared me,  but enought! I  didn’t leave the kids at home, flew  so many miles , so I come here to bury  you, like everybody else already does. !!

They will kick me out, because I am not supposed to be here, so you have untill tomorrow to put your self well enough to be sent upstairs into a normal hospital room so I can take care of you. I hope you heard me. This is really me and I know you don’t want to upset me. Ok?”

I cover him and left.

Now..think about it. That was me . The one that cries that  can’t watch the news! I don’t know why I was like this.

Next day , I came back ready for another fight with the nurses. I was soooo tired..i didn’t sleep. I prayed and prayed, I talked to God , myself and my father all night long.

Ready for a fight I was trying to get in.

“Whats the name , she said.”

“Petru Bulboaca”.

It was a blond ,c omunist looking  lady. She looked at me and said:” He is on the 4-th floor. Neurology. Turned around and left.

Now people..Oh..I didn’t cry untill that morning , how I cried running up the stairs…

It was a miracle. !!!! Another door, white, I opened..my father was in a normal bed and the only thing I remember was that he had colour and he was warm. He was asleep.

I won’t tell you everything because it might be boring. Were three weeks of constant fight. My father had a big stroke and he was not functioning.The doctor said to prepare for the worse, i told him to lead me to the best.

And so..we walked out of that hospital.

During this recuperation that goes on for a year now, we had a lot of issues, but the worse..were my father’s eyes..

Yes. The eyes that I can’t leave without were not there..He did not see.

Very hard I convinced him to still fight..he started to move his eyes to the sides and see a little bit with one. But his eyes wont be able to move up or down and could not stay focus, still.

I thought then..I lost my father’s eyes.  After all this fight, I lost what I never wanted to lose.

We were trying to put money together for a surgery when this doctor cross out path. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but this one person, this doctor is no man. For me  he is an angel!!

He offered to operate my father.We are at the second surgery ..

All this to say..

Thank you! Thank you God,  for giving me the  strength  , for not letting me drop by  my father’s bed.

Thank you Universe and everything up there,  that my father is alive.

Thank you doctor..for giving me back ..my father’s eyes..