As twilight painted the room lavander, Sandy Moreno whisked a dust rag across knick-knacks. Reaching an angel figurine with a flaxen halo, she paused--and a train whistled in a distance.
You're still here, Tina, aren't you? Sandy thought as goosebumps danced across her skin. Still working your miracle...
Three years previous, the forty-nine-year-old insurance agent was sitting beside her husband's bed in the ICU of Baylor Medical Center in Dallas. Mike had built their Honolulu cottage with his own hands, and even after he contracted hepatitis,you could find him surfing. But five years after Mike's diagnosis, he had deteriorated into complete liver failure.
"He needs a transplant," the doctors explained.
He will make it! Sandy felt it in her heart. And Mike was in disbelief as he was placed on an organ waiting list.
"For me to get a new liver," he said, "someone must die." So they made a vow that after waiting the year required by the donor organization, they'd write and thank the donor family.
Finally, one stormy night five months later, doctors said: "We have an organ!"
Here's my chance, Mike thought as Sandy raced alongside his gurney.
For the next six hours, Sandy paced the waiting room. As morning broke, she bought a newspaper. I'm too nervous to read, she decided. But I'll save it for Mike as a souvenir marking his re-birthday!
Finally, the surgeon emerged. "That was the healthiest organ I've ever seen," he smiled.
Sandy felt excited, but at the same time sad: Someone had died for MIke to live. Yet that evening, Mike still lay in a coma.
"Why won't he wake up?" Sandy demanded.
"We don't know," doctors confessed.
Unable to sleep, sitting in a chair beside Mike's bed, Sandy picked up the Dallas Morning News. Her hands trembled as she flipped to an article about an eighteen-year-old girl who'd died when a train crashed into her car. There was a picture of Tina, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders.
Sandy bolted upright. She'd seen Mike's chart: His donor was a young woman. This must be her, Sandy thought. She glanced at the young girl's youthful smile. Then she took her husbands hand. "You'll pull through!" she said.
After ten days and nights, Mike awoke -- but he was babbling incoherently. Soon, an MRI revealed that Mike had central pontine mylenisis, a rare brain disorder.
"Maybe with rehabilitation, he can have a normal life," the doctors said. "But there's only a 2 percent chance..."
For the next two weeks, Mike struggled. His right hand side was paralyzed. "you can do this!" Sandy urged.
But after a month, Mike was still in pain. "I can't.... take... any more!" he blurted. He looked at his wife. I've put her through enough suffering, he despaired. Maybe I should give up. Then he fell into a deep sleep.
Everything went murky. This is the end, Mike realized. But then He felt a breeze-- and saw a pinpoint of brightness. The light grew and grew. And from the illumination appeared... a girl.
"Come on, Mike," she encouraged. "God wants you to live!"
Stunned, Mike peered into her face, at her twinkling eyes framed by short hair the color of honey.
"Who are you?" he stammered.
But the girl was already disappearing. "You can do it!" she sang.
She sounds like a cheerleader! Mike almost laughed, and he felt encompassed by a radiant warmth. Suddenly, he realized: I can do it!
The next morning, Mike said to Sandy, "I had a vision!" His eyes blazed as he continued. "I saw a light, and this blond girl..."
Sandy instantly recalled the photo in the newspaper, and she swallowed hard. Could it be the same girl? she thought.
"I want to get better," Mike stated with determination. Smiling, Sandy kissed his forehead. Let him believe whatever gives him hope, she decided. But she also resolved not to say anything about the girl in the train accident. It may upset him, she thought.
That day, Mike got into his wheelchair. Soon he was storming down hallways. The doctors were amazed. "There's no explanation for why Mike recovered," they marveled.
Sure there is, Mike thought. I met an angel.
Only a month and a half, Mike went home 70 percent recovered, his new liver working well. A year later, he felt strong enough to surf again. Sandy told Mike, "It's time to write the letter."
You gave me a second chance, Mike penned. Thank you. Then he sent the letter to a national transplant organization, which sent it to his donor's family.
One month later, Mike received a letter postmarked Argyle, Texas. We're the parents of your donor, it read. And we'd love to meet you. Signed Donna and Terry Minke.
So Sandy and Mike flew to Texas. There, Donna presented Mike with a picture of long-haired Tina--and Mike gasped. It was the girl in his vision.
"I've already met your daughter," he began trembling as he told them about his vision. "But she has shorter hair."
Donna's hand flew to her mouth. "Tina cut her hair after that picture as taken," she choked. "Before she... died in a train accident."
Sandy and Mike exchanged glances. The girl in the newspaper was Mike's donor!
"She was the youngest registered nurse's aide in Texas," Donna began. "And the day she got her driver's license, she said she'd checked off the boxes to be an organ donor."
"Tina was one heck of a third baseman too," her dad claimed. "She even lobbied to get a softball diamond built. Her nickname was 'the cheerleader'."
She was my cheerleader too, Mike realized. Then, placing his hand on his body, he said, "she's still doing wonderful things," Tina's parents fell into Sandy and Mike's arms.
Today, Mike is back to his old self, and the Minke's plan to visit him in Hawaii. In the meantime, they keep in touch. How're ya feeling? Terry writes.
Your little girl lives on, Mike write back. And Sandy agrees. Thank you, Tina, for your wonderful final gift, she thinks. You truly earned your wings.
by Eva Unga
Excerpted from Woman's World Magazine
No comments:
Post a Comment