they have the sweetest smile.

i have seen them in and out of our unit for the past year. to be honest, i kind of miss them.

G was in her early 40s i think. i initially admitted her from the ICU after a bilateral above the knee amputation that had a couple of complications. she was diabetic, and apparently had really bad necrotic wounds, it was not possible to save her legs. she had a tracheostomy tube, and was not yet fitted for the valve that will let her talk. it was challenging to place her in a comfortable position at first, but when i finally figured out how to do it,  i saw that really sweet smile for the first time.

with big brown eyes that communicated in absence of the spoken words, she went through me in an instant.

for more than 13 months, she was in the hospital. in that period of time, she coded twice, was revived, and was in the cardiac ICU for awhile. she went into respiratory distress about three or four times, and was sent to the Medical ICU. always, when she is stable to get out of the ICU, she was sent to us. the very last time i took care of her was when the doctors have sort of given up on weaning her from the tracheostomy mask, so she can be sent to a facility.

she would take the oxygen mask off, on purpose. when i checked her, she would look at me with those eyes that spoke a thousand thoughts. she was tired, and desperately wanted to rest. in peace. i knew what she was saying, and it broke my heart.

for 13 months, her husband and son visited her. he would comb her short curly hair, whisper stories to her, and just sit there, holding her hand. he would practice speaking english to me, and ask me if he was saying the words correctly. he would ask if i thought she was getting better, and ask when can they finally take her home. their son, who is about 10 year old, would usually stand outside the unit, waiting for his father, until they got a yes from the child services that he can go in and see his mom. it was then that i saw that smile.

when her husband and son leave, i would tell G that she was blessed for having a caring husband, and a loving son. after working hard at wherever it was they ask illegal immigrants to work, he would drive for a 4 hour round trip to see her. stay at her bedside for over an hour, get home just before midnight, and go back to work the next day. day in. day out. for over a year, consistently. that kind of devotion is not very common nowadays.

but G, like everybody else who has been confined to a small room that smelled nothing like home, who has gotten all the bugs one can possible get by staying in the hospital, was always depressed. she didn’t see the point in getting better. she would point to her stumps and her tracheostomy, raise her arms in the air, and shake her head, fighting tears. usually, i have no smart or sensitive sounding answers to that nonverbal statement. i kept quiet and touched her shoulder. occasionally, in my thoughts, i agreed with her. i didn’t see the point either, but i told her otherwise.

two weeks ago, while in the cardiac ICU, G’s wish was finally granted. a long awaited rest that took forever to come. the news didn’t really surprise me, but it still made me sad. i remember those eyes. those smiles that didn’t come very often. i remember her husband. his eyes that showed both hope and lack of it, everytime he saw her. his reserved but genuine smile that occasionally calmed her down, but mostly made her lonely. i remember their son. his confused eyes that seemed to have endless list of questions. his innocent smile that made her seem so happy.

i’ll never see those smiles again, but i’ll never forget them.

it’s father’s day, and i am thinking of how G’s husband deserve that “father of the year award”. 

this is what i think: when a husband treats his wife with such love, thoughtfulness, and respect, he is not only showing his children what kind of a husband he is, he is also telling them what kind of a father he is.

and, if you really want to know the truth… i don’t find it ironic that instead of my own, i am talking about other children’s father on father’s day.