The Hope Among The Doubt

THE HOPE AMONG THE DOUBT CHAPTER 1 After suffering a severe heart attack in 1973, my grandmother sank into a deep coma and was put on the critical care in the hospital. Her electroencephalogram indicated zero brain activities.

She was connected to a pacemaker that made her heart beat artificially as well as the respirator that she had. But technically, as the doctors told me privately, she was basically dead."She will never come out of the coma" they said "it would be better for her to get rid of this. If she continues like this, her life would be meaningless. She would live in a fully vegetative state. " Although she was in her mid-seventies and had lived a full life, I refused to believe that my beloved grandmother could simply leave like this. She was very happy, so vital to simply disappear into a coma. My instinct told me to start talking to her and I continued like this, chatting for long periods of time. I stayed next to her bed day and night. I talked to her all the time about my husband and our two small children, about other relatives, about her own life. I told her all the news that was circulating in Australia at that moment so that she would cling to life, and she would not give up. "Do not you dare leave us" I said. "I need you, my Mom needs you, your grandchildren need you. They are beginning to know you. It's too early for you to leave! "

CHAPTER 2 It was hard for me to fight for my grandmother's life, alone.

During the time she fell ill, I was the only relative in Sydney. His daughter (my mother) was away, abroad on a trip, and my only relative, a brother, lived in Israel. My husband was at home taking care of our children, so that I could take my place next to her bed. I resisted a lonely vigil, but that was not what exerted tremendous pressure on me.

It was the fact to be asked to make the decision alone.The emotional charge was great.

After four days without signs of life in her body there was no change in the electroencephalogram, so the doctors advised me to authorize the papers to turn off the life support systems. I trembled at the thought that I had the power to deposit my grandmother early in her grave. "But she has already died" the doctors insisted. "she is being artificially alive through the pacemaker and the respirator, keeping her attached to these machines is just a waste."

In the meantime, I did not allow myself to be paralyzed. I kept talking and talking, while discussing difficult issues, chatted about what was happening around her. "Guess what, Grandma?" I gossiped. "You will not believe who ended up being your roommate here in the hospital! Simpson! The neighbor in your house." Mrs. Simpson was brought into serious conditions, is not that a coincidence? She's your neighbor in Sydney and now she's your roommate here at the hospital! "

CHAPTER 3 On Saturday, I was in my usual position next to my grandmother's bed, preparing to start a series of tearful goodbyes, when I noticed that her eyes were blinking. I called a nurse and told her what I had seen. "It's just your imagination, my dear," the nurse said sympathetically. "Why don't you go downstairs for some coffee? I'll stay with her until you get back."

But when I returned, the nurse was overflowing with enthusiasm. "You know," She said, "I think you may be right, I have been sitting here looking at your grandmother, and I could swear I saw her blink, too."

After a few hours my grandmother's eyelids had opened. She stared at me and then lifted her neck to look at the empty bed on the other side of the room. "Hey!" she shouted, "What happened to Mrs. Simpson?"

When my mother arrived at the hospital the next day, my grandmother was sitting on the bed, chatting happily with the hospital staff, and looking absolutely normal. My mother looked at me, irritated, sure I had exaggerated my grandmother's condition. "For this I had to return home urgently"? She asked.

Later, my grandmother told me that while she was in "coma" she had heard every word that was said to her and about her. She repeated all the conversations, and her retention was remarkable.

"I was screaming at you," she said, "but somehow you did not hear me, I tried to tell them: Do not bury me yet!"

After leaving the hospital, my grandmother's quality of life remained excellent. She lived alone, as a self-sufficient, independent, and courageous lady and continued in this way until her death, sixteen years after she almost disconnected her.