Shambhala Page 20

  To go along with that was to consent to be unconscious and remain so for a longer time, blind and ignorant of our own faculties. It perpetuates, during an indefinite time, a pernicious lifestyle that only damages our bodies, but affects the health of all living beings on the planet.

  My recent thoughts awakened a strange need to go with Victor on his trip. The works that would be done there would help me establish my own beliefs, of which I was become more and more convinced: our balance and inner peace is what gives us physical and mental health. But, in order to achieve that, I had to get to self-knowledge, and Gobi seemed the ideal place to let myself go and get into myself.

  But that wasn’t all. Apart from knowing it would involve personal work, I felt it would have incalculable repercussions. We would get directly involved in individual learning with certain consequences, yes, but everything that surrounded us, beyond what we could imagine, would also be altered.

  Actually, it was becoming increasingly clear that any act, whatever it was, and however much we wanted to deny or ignore it, not only affected us, but also our environment.

  A decision, an action, a thought...opened a range of repercussions and chain reactions. That made me see, with an inexplicable lucidity, that we were all connected, that we belonged to a much larger invisible network, one that harbored everything we could perceive, and the unimaginable, too.

  That particular change, that inner healing, could spread, and would probably enhance the realities of so many other people, so that little by little, we would all find a real and lasting balance.

  I finished sending the photograph to Victor and looked around until I saw the figure of my father’s sister.

  “And Uncle?” I asked her while I watched how her gaze stare out into infinity.

  “He’s on his way. I just told him.”

  “Does he know what they’ve found in surgery?”

  “No. I told him that he’s had a heart attack and that we’re waiting in emergency waiting for them to tell us something.”

  “And how did you find out?” I was suddenly very curious.

  “I’d just called him. We were talking...we were thinking about getting together for dinner this weekend, and he suddenly started feeling bad.” Her eyes teared up remembering what happened. “A young man who was out on the street must have seen him, and thank God, rushed to help him. I heard him asking him ‘Sir, are you okay?’ Your father said he felt ‘terrible’.

  “The young man automatically took the phone away and got on the phone with me. He told me the name of the street and approximately the house number where they were, then he gave me instructions to call an ambulance, and that’s what I did. I hung up and called emergency services.”

  “Like an angel,” I whispered, overcome.

  “Yes,” exclaimed my aunt, equally moved, “there are very good people in the world.”

  “I think so, too.” My head flew distractedly to imagine such a scene, which was only interrupted again by curiosity. “And then?”

  “I don’t know anything else, except that he was brought here.”

  “But how did you know they would bring him here?”

  “This hospital is in his area and is one of the most complete, with a great variety of specialties,” Ian answered. “Besides, when she called, they probably told your aunt.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Jimena confirmed. “They asked for my phone number just in case there was a change and they needed to contact me again.”

  We fell silent, each one lost in thought. I sensed that this environment enveloped us all in bad memories, especially Ian.

  “Can I get you two anything?” Ian asked kindly.

  “No, thanks, son,” my aunt replied, self-absorbed.

  “The truth is I couldn’t eat anything now...”

  “You need to get something, even if it’s just juice. You haven’t eaten for hours.” He whispered the last sentence, I think so my aunt wouldn’t hear.

  “Okay, bring me some juice if you want,” I agreed, forcing a reluctant smile.

  He kissed me on the forehead when he got up.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait, do you have money?” I felt like a mother sending her child on an errand.

  “Yes, I’ll be back.”

  He turned around and left.

  Chapter 23

  Another Chance

  The hours passed very slowly. Every minute that clicked by exhaustedly on that big wall clock seemed to take a whole existence with it. Why does time seem to crawl by when you’re waiting for hopeful news, when the someone’s life is looking for reasons to stay here?

  I trusted that my father would find enough incentives to remain in this world, in this reality, and by my side for more years.

  Within a few minutes of being there, a doctor came looking for us. He invited us to accompany him since, according to him: “The Emergency Room was not the most appropriate place.”

  The man guided us along endless corridors that led us to the fourth floor, where, as he explained, they treated coronary and digestive diseases.

  After the bleak journey, we arrived at a new room, this one much smaller than the previous one, I calculated about twenty-four square feet. There were very low sofas and a couple of tables, on which rested the usual gossip and worthless magazines that usually ‘contaminated’ any waiting room and the heads of anyone who borrowed them. “We let ourselves get dragged by the masses,” I thought, resigned.

  “You can wait here,” the man said with kindness, signaling with his right hand to enter and wait there.

  “Thank you very much,” we all said in unison.

  “As soon as we can, we’ll come out and give you a report,” he said. “Try to stay calm.”

  The tension to which these saviors were subjected was incredible. The lives of dozens, hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people passed through their hands year after year. Just one error, an insignificant mistake in the operating room could mean the transit from life to death of any of their patients. Without a doubt, that profession required great effort, dedication, years of specialization, passion and above all, vocation. Not everyone could do the work they do. However, the tormented thought came to me again that we went to them much more than we should, and because we stopped listening to ourselves.

  “We’ll be here,” I answered. “Thank you very much.”

  The man turned around and retraced part of the way he’d come. As he walked away, I watched his steady and rhythmic steps, the worn leather of his shoes, the movement of his white jacket swaying gracefully, drawing smooth, soothing waves of cotton. I forgot for a moment where I was and what that figure implied.

  After my brief distraction, I entered the room and took a seat, once again resigning myself to watch the minutes go by.

  It was after eight in the evening. It was just us in that small hole. We looked at each other, not knowing what to do or how to face the unsettling wait. Now and then, we picked up our phones, pretending that we were dealing with some message. But not even the conversations that really might be awaiting our attention helped the time pass more quickly. Nothing could mitigate the nervousness we felt before that interminable uncertainty.

  “Hello,” replied my aunt to her interlocutor. “We’re on the fourth floor. Go up the central elevators. I’ll wait for you there.”

  I sensed who it was, but stayed quiet.

  “It’s your uncle, he’s here,” she said, still staring at the screen of her phone. “I’m going to look for him, I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay. We’ll be here,” I said, smiling.

  We stayed there, Ian and I alone, in the middle of an unusual silence. Apparently the rooms in that hall weren’t for patients, but were rooms where medical tests were performed. They were all closed. The consultations must be done in the mornings. The total absence of sound disturbed me slightly, making me exhale a strong sigh.

  “How are you doing?” Ian asked, taking my hand. His touch relaxed me immed
iately.

  “Okay, a little tired,” I responded, my body feeling heavy and sleepy. “And you? Are you okay?”

  “Well...I was better a few hours ago,” he joked. That made me laugh.

  “Yes, we were both doing better,” I said fondly, remembering his kisses, his caresses, the intensity with which we had enjoyed each other a short time ago. It’s curious to see how ignorance can keep us in a parallel state of...of happiness in this case.

  I let my head fall on his shoulder.

  “I wish I could sleep until this was all over.”

  “Sleep if you want, that may be the best way to let the minutes pass.”

  “The wait is horrible.”

  “Yes, it’s exasperating,” he said, squeezing my hand tightly.

  At that moment, I remembered the accident, how hard it must have been for him to wait, for almost two days, for a definitive prognosis about my state of health, whether I would improve or not, if I would have repercussions or if some day I could recover my lifestyle.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I found myself cheering him up, as if it were his father instead of mine. And I was surprised to see, at the same time, that something had changed inside. Now I thought it was possible that my father might come out of this experience alive. At first I had no hope, but now...now it was different. I felt a strength...a confidence that grew by the minute—a security that persuaded my fear, leading me to understand that everything would be a scare and would, without doubt, be another opportunity. A gift, not just for him, but also for those around him, for those who would share many good and intense moments at his side.

  Ian watched me, trying to figure out what was going through my mind.

  “You know what?” I finally said. “I think this is offering us a very valuable lesson.”

  “You could be right. What I don’t know is where this sudden confidence that everything will turn out all right is coming from,” he said. It surprised me that he said it out loud.

  “I know. For a minute it surprised me to see myself so hopeful and positive. I have come to think he could have died in the operating room and his soul had come to comfort us and tell us that he was fine.”

  “What are you saying?” he said, alarmed.

  “No, no, I don’t think that’s happened, I just commented that I thought that...a possible explanation as to why I feel this way now.”

  “You know? Victor and his friends crossed my mind,” he said timidly.

  “Yes, that’s the second thing I considered and something tells me that that’s the answer.”

  We were both quiet for a few moments. Reflecting. Hopeful.

  “Human beings have very great capabilities. The problem is we don’t believe it and we don’t develop it. Or almost worse, we don’t want to become aware that it’s part of us.”

  Ian sighed and began to stroke my hand.

  “After seeing how you recovered from the accident, I can and must agree.”

  “It wasn’t my time,” I said. “There are still many things to do...”

  After a long time, my aunt and uncle appeared. It appeared they’d been talking before joining us. His face looked very worried. Jorge and my father got along very well. They’d become close friends in their adolescence and later, time and the power of love caused them to be more than that; they became family. It reminded me of the relationship between Eric and Ian, and I understood why my aunt had at first left out certain details to her husband. They were also like brothers.

  It seemed like part of the history was repeating itself. The part of Eric was being played by my father and that of Ian, my uncle. The difference was that, this time, I was sure of a different ending.

  *･｡.·.｡･*

  “Family of Joaquín Blesa?” The grave and serious tone of that voice woke me up from my slight nod.

  “Yes,” I said, flinching. I automatically stood up to approach the interrupter of my peace.

  “Are you his daughter?” In front of me was a man about fifty years old with abundant black hair slicked back.

  “Yes, I’m his daughter. Can you tell us how it went?” I asked impatiently.

  “Hello,” he said, putting out his hand. “I’m Dr. Estevez, I’ve been treating your father.” I didn’t care about his formal presentation at that moment. I didn’t care who he was or what his name was. I just wanted to know how the operation had gone. I didn’t say anything, I just waited. “It went better than expected,” he informed me, making my chest breathe easier. “It’s still pretty early, but I think he’ll be fine. Through these first hours we’ll leave him in the intensive care unit, in the lower level 2. If all goes as we hope, tomorrow we can move him to another floor...we were lucky to catch the aneurysm in time.”

  “Aneurysm? It wasn’t a heart attack?” I asked, confused.

  “No, there were no symptoms of heart attack. Apparently when they called in to the ER, someone said it might be one, but it wasn’t. Once here, we observed that he complained about the abdominal area, which made us think for a moment that he might have colic or appendicitis. But it wasn’t that, either. As soon as we started the tests, they revealed that it was something much more serious. Your father suffered internal bleeding from an abdominal aortic aneurysm. Luckily, we were able to intervene on time.” The doctor was still explaining, and I was looking at him with a frown, trying to understand the scope of the situation. “We had to open it to replace the diseased aortic artery with a vascular prosthesis with manual suture. Also, during the operation, we transfused five bags of blood. A little more and I wouldn’t be telling you this story,” he said.

  “Thank you very much, Doctor.” He merely inclined his head and gave us a polite smile.

  “If you wish, I can accompany you to the ICU, it’s on my way.”

  “Yes, we would appreciate it very much,” Jimena replied.

  “Come with me, please,” he said as he turned.

  We took our gear ready to be guided by his kind gesture. My aunt and uncle followed him closely. While they went ahead, Ian took my head gently and kissed me on the forehead. His smile said it all. He felt just as happy and satisfied as I was—the Universe really was giving us another chance.

  Chapter 24

  The Decision

  While we followed the doctor to the lower level, I reflected on myself, especially what I had been learning since the accident that took half of my family: energy, thoughts, emotions...how all of that affected our bodies, how it can create diseases or put us in difficult situations.

  At the same time, our ‘guide’ told us about the long recovery: from thirty to forty days, maybe more, he told us. And although that didn’t seem to be any obstacle, since my father was a strong man and I was sure he would succeed, I wasn’t satisfied.

  I looked inside for some answer that would tell me why something like that could have happened. Yes, without a doubt I thanked the Universe because that unknown young man came up and asked if he was okay and helped him, also the medical team and the specialists who were treating him and helped him keep living, but apart from that, I wanted to know more.

  I sensed that in the times in which we found ourselves, addressing the problems anyone might have only in a scientific way, was insufficient, just as I knew that, for the moment, there were areas in which spirituality without science remained incomplete—or, more than incomplete, inexplicable. In any case, I felt that it was the moment to find the fusion between the two more important forces that human beings have, their conscious spirituality and their scientific mental capacity.

  We walked in silence. After walking down a long hallway, we took the elevator that took us to our floor. There, after winding through three or four more hallways, we finally arrived at the waiting room for the Intensive Care Unit.

  “In an hour more or less, the nurses will let a couple of family members go in for a few minutes,” explained Dr. Estévez. “You won’t be able to talk to him, since he’ll either be asleep or out of it from the general an
esthesia. It’s normal, don’t worry. Mainly, we let the relatives go in for a few moments so they can reassure themselves...”

  “Thank you very much,” I said with appreciation.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”

  “Of course. Thanks again for everything,” I repeated.

  That area, more than a room, was a wide corridor with a row of benches attached to the wall. In front of them were opaque windows that did not allow one to see what was hidden on the other side. I understood the reason for such “discretion.” There must be some of everything in there, and not very pleasing to the eye.

  “Is it okay if we leave you two alone for a few minutes? We’re going to get some coffee from the vending machine,” I said, looking at my aunt and uncle, and assuming that Ian would come with me.

  “Yes, dear, of course, it could be an hour before they let us in, so you have plenty of time,” Jimena said lovingly and understandingly.

  “Do you want us to bring you anything?”

  “No, don’t worry. Go on. Then when you come back, we’ll go. That way we can stretch our legs,” my uncle answered.

  I smiled warmly. It seemed like a good idea. When I was ready, Ian was already waiting by my side ready for us to leave.

  “By the way, instead of getting coffee out of the machine, wouldn’t it be better to go to the cafeteria?”

  “Yes, you’re right. Coffee from the machine gives me tachycardia.” I grinned. The others laughed when they saw the apprehension on my face.

  “Okay, we’ll be back soon.”

  “We’ll be here,” my aunt answered.

  While we went up two floors that separated us from the main floor, I started to reflect out loud.

  “Have you noticed?”

  “Noticed what?” Ian replied.

  “It seems strange that this has happened right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Just now when we start to ‘get closer,’ when we’re contacted by extraterrestrials to go, in theory, to a site in Central Asia,” I lied a little bit, “he gets an aneurysm.”