Revisiting

It has been a while since I visited hospitals and played for patients. In fact, I spent the past two months being a patient myself--having had a few adventures "unit-hopping". It was an educational experience; one often learns double portion when taking a refresher course. I am now back on my feet, eyes forward, heart filled with thanksgiving for each new day given to make more music.

I visited a rehabilitation unit last night at a hospital that looked more like an airport than a health care facility. As my guide and I roamed through the lobby that resembled a long terminal, surrounded by glass panes and stepping on soft carpet with endless repetition of the same patterns, I tried to recall the feelings when I last found myself in a rehab hospital, recovering from complete paralysis. Surprisingly, the effort was not very fruitful. Time may not heal completely, as it is often said, but it does have a way of softening the edges of those memories that were once imprinted on every fiber of one's being.

As I left at the end of the night, I found a strange sense of dissatisfaction in my heart. It wasn't anything I did, but something I didn't or couldn't do--something I could not quite put my finger on. I pray that the comfort these strangers found in the music would last longer than one night, but more than that, I pray that they would be back on their feet soon, and that their dreams would still be waiting for them outside of the hospital doors.