Heroes Don't Take Vacations
After four hours of waiting, a doctor came out and asked for the patient's family. He said, "There is no good news. There are many organs damaged by the accident. The 24 hours are crucial. Only a miracle can save her. If you know how to pray, start praying. The family saw the doctor get lost behind the door after dropping that bomb in the waiting room. They hugged each other for the support that only comes from heaven. The girl's mother, until that moment silent, knelt before the altar in front of her. As she looked at the woman's gesture, one by one she began to do the same. The night would be long, as long were the prayers.
It had been a spectacular accident: the high-speed car had lost its brakes and hit an electric pole. All the other passengers were unharmed, only the girl in the passenger seat was seriously injured: general polytrauma, injury to the left lung, tear in the stomach. As the saying goes: when it touches you, even if it takes you away; and when it doesn't touch you, even if you get into it. It seems that the girl had to receive all that suffering.
From the moment the doctor came out and offered the negative report, the girl's family assumed that the only way to save her was to ask a God or a superior being whom everyone did not know, but to whom many prayed for salvation and that was what they were going to do: pray. Behind the door of the intensive care unit, the doctors on duty were trying at that moment to give life to the patient who was dying every second. The men in white coats revived, opened, sewed up the young woman's body as if every second she lost the chance to live. The youngest of the doctors exclaimed in the middle of the operation: she is leaving us, she wants to leave us. The older doctor said with some trepidation: if we are here, let us do everything to save her.
Outside in the corridor, the girl's mother looked at the plaster image and for the first time since she was a child she felt helpless and unprotected. Yet she felt she had to hold on to that chance of life, the only one she had, and hope that her daughter would come out unscathed. She prayed to the all-knowing God, asking Him face to face, in fear, for her daughter's health. He silently remembered all his sins and the times he could have ignored the power of any God. However, at that moment, it was not her life that was at stake but her child's, so she repented of all she had done and promised that from that moment on everything would be better.
Five hours passed in silence. The night was shaped like a cold cave. The closed door of the intensive care unit was the meeting point of all eyes. By dint of coffee and chamomile tea, those who waited outside for news lay their heads on the walls or the backs of chairs. Some had been overcome by sleep, others looked out of cold windows. The night had been long and full of feelings that, like hungry animals, they ate inside.
In the morning, the many hollow-eyed and droopy eyes were still open. In the long white and grey corridor, the tired bodies of those waiting looked like dolls lying in a corner. No one had left, perhaps waiting for any news that might give them hope. The mother of the girl, hunched over, with her eyes closed and her head in her hands, sat on one of the cold chairs that had been placed near a makeshift altar. From there, the mother watched as the doors of the Intensive Care Unit opened. She and the others went out to meet the doctors. There, also haggard and tired, the doctors sentenced: she is out of danger, she is better, she asked for her mother. The clamor and the graces were a single sound in the middle of the corridor. The doctors, exhausted but with a smile of satisfaction, went back inside. From the door, the mother looked towards the altar and saw that the image that was there was also smiling.
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