Yesterday, Baba Tera Miah, the patient on Bed 2 transferred to another unit. He is Bangladeshi and just started his speech therapy. He is still on trial for the speech valve.
When I arrived in our room from the Social Worker's office, they were already preparing him for transfer. He called me,"Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk," and asked his nurse to tell me that he is transferring to another unit. He was smiling but his eyes were sad.
I smiled at him too. But when I asked the nurse to tell him that we are going home to the Philippines soon, I was crying. I was crying because maybe that's our goodbye.
For a few months, Glenn and Baba Taramiah shared the same room.
I've called the nurses for him if he wanted or needed something.
He showed me how to be brave. How to face whatever life gives you. And how not to stop trying.
When he first arrived in our room, he was conscious, ventilated, paralyzed from waist down, and his hands were barely moving. On the first few days he would point me to the door (by facial gestures and head turn) when he catches me looking at him. He does not want staring. No one does.
The first time his son visited, I saw him crying while talking on the phone to, probably, his wife.
He had seen me cried a lot, too.
Through the days he started waving. He started smiling.
I was surprised the first time he smiled at me. It was like, "Wow! Seriously, that's for me?"
And from that day, I would always greet him good morning when I arrive and wave or salute before I go at night.
And yesterday... that was one sad wave of goodbye.
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