Post by Pony on Dec 29, 2006 17:24:17 GMT -5
WHEN ANGELS APPEAR
by
Anthony Rain Starez
Personally I'm unsure of what people are referring to when they speak of angels. I can't help but drum up this ghostly fuzzy white gowned image of an angel that flies around us invisible to all mortals. I admit it, the media I've been exposed to since I was a child has definitely left it's angel-imprint on my mind.
As I've gotten considerably older, 48 to be specific, I've come to the conclusion that the angels we so desperately want to believe in are really within our souls. Sure, it's fantastic to think of unworldly spirits moving about our daily lives, watching over us, but look closer, the angels that sometimes touch our lives in the most dramatic ways are other people. Yep, those sometimes overlooked angels that reach out to others with a hand, or a word, or their heart...
Looking back I remember one angel in particular that touched my life briefly, only for a couple of minutes, actually, but those few minutes would make a profound impact on me for years to come.
A wild young man at 21 years of age, I had grown up with little guidance or direction. It wasn't necessarily my parents fault, they had their own inner battles going on, and let's face it, being a parent doesn't come with a handbook.
Weekends meant, all-to-frequently, drinking myself into a crazy state, and there didn't seem to be anybody in my life that considered it unusual. In fact, most people would just laugh or even admire some of my ridiculous shenanigans. I worked just outside of Baltimore at Westinghouse Electric Corporation on the shipping floor, it was a great job that paid a young man like me very well. However, it was unchallenging, and became a mental drain causing me deep-seeded depression.
One night after work my friends (co-workers) and I decided to go to the local bowling alley for some knocking down pins, shooting pool and lots of drinking. Bowling alleys are a great place to have fun for the athletically inclined drinker, and I happened to be both.
Feeling especially in the mood for partying on a cold February night in 1980, my friends and I proceeded to drink ourselves into wild drunkenness. Leaving the alley with no intentions of having someone drive me home, I drove recklessly toward my small apartment with two of my friends driving directly behind me. The road was kind of a winding road with big curves, and as I barely navigated the turns with sloppy coordination my passenger side wheels slipped off onto the shoulder. Quickly pulling the car back onto the road, I over-corrected and steered my car to the opposite side of the road and crashed head-on into a tree.
The collision was severe at about 40 MPH, shoving the engine of my small car back under the dashboard and with no seat belt on, I was thrown head first into the windshield, compressing my neck and injuring my spinal cord at a high-level on the spine. There were many other injuries of cuts, concussion to my head, broken shoulder, fractured arm and compound fractured leg, but none as life threatening and long lasting as the spinal cord bruise I received upon impact. This devastating injury caused immediate paralysis from my chest area down, and sent my system into shock.
My friends ran to the nearest house and called for help. Minutes later I was flown by helicopter to Washington Hospital Center where there was a shock trauma staff waiting there to try and save my life. Indeed, they were angels for my moment of limbo between life or death. And in this case, the angels won out over death.
Stabilizing my condition and mending the broken bones and wounds was the easy part, but as for the spinal cord injury there was no medical way to reverse my paralysis. Weeks went by as I fought to regain the ability to breathe for myself and move my non-broken arm. I'll never forget how one of the critical care nurses seem to nurture me, stroking my hair and talking to me for hours into the night. She surely was an angel to me as she gave me strength with her mere presence. I'm sad I never remembered her name, but I guess that's what happens to angels sometimes, always getting lost in the shuffle of the crisis. However her empathy and affection was the best prescription any doctor could have given me. One night after an especially hard day of trying to be weaned off the ventilator I smiled with her and told her she was beautiful. I couldn't really tell how pretty she was since I was forced to lay flat, and motionless, with only the ceiling being in my line of vision, but it was her inner beauty tha I was referring to.
Soon I was well enough to be moved to the regular floor where a very large black lady nurse with a bellowing voice greeted me and would become another angel who watched over me like a mother bear does her cubs. Another angel's name forgotten, but not her warm spirit.
As I got better, the reality of being paralyzed began hitting me harder. During the day I would be taken to physical therapy, and unable to do very much because of my weakened state I'd focus on making therapists and nurses around me laugh, sometimes to the point of tears. Being the son of a jazz musician, I guess I've always had performer blood in me. My father was a very talented man who composed music and performed constantly in night clubs. Playing instruments came easy to me and I'd played guitar and piano by ear before the accident, sometimes stopping by the piano stores in the mall where beautiful Baby Grand pianos would beg me to play songs I'd invent on the spot for shoppers passing by.
During these very confusing months after my accident it was my defense to be on-stage when people were around me, hiding the severity of the situation, while at night the loneliness of a darkened hospital room and not being able to move was pulling on my soul like a thousand anchors.
Memories haunted me like a curse at night as I lay completely still in my room, unable to even sit up. Sometimes family or visitors would come up, but there were the nights of absolute loneliness and isolation. I'd never felt so alone before. The only thing I had intact was my spirit, and it was like staring into a magnifying mirror for a long period of time.
Feeling scared and angry one night, I began crying and cursing myself, wondering what my life would be without the ability to play sports, or music, or walk the beach, or use my hands in the normal way. When suddenly an angel appeared beside me. Then shockingly I felt the hand of the angel rest upon my forehead, his voice spoke to me gently telling me I'd be okay. He just kept repeating, "It's okay son. You're going to be alright!"
I don't mind telling you I needed that angel so badly at that moment, I was so afraid of the consequences I must now face for my own destructive deed, and here was this angel standing in the darkness with me giving me a
part of himself to comfort me.
When the tear-letting ceased, I looked up at the angel noticing his mournful face, and simply said, "Thank you." He asked me if I was alright now, and I smiled and said, "Yeah man, I'm alright!" And with that he patted my head and walked out of the room.
Was this kind man who appeared out of nowhere an angel? Or maybe it was just a visitor in the hallway walking by who heard my despair. It doesn't matter really. But I like to think that he was both....a man AND an angel! Maybe that's what we all are, people with angels inside.
For years I've wondered about that man who became my angel on one of my most desperate nights of my life.
Many months of rehabilitation and difficult times followed that fateful evening of being visited by an angel, and living my life from a wheelchair has taught me just how important angels are in ours lives. And how the gift of life is an angel in itself. And how we are also angels to ourselves and others.
The years have rolled by one after another like a never-ending dream, and I've managed to put my life back together piece by piece. Leaving the state of Maryland two years after my accident to begin a new life in Florida. I somehow managed to earn a bachelor degree from the University of South Florida after learning to drive again with hand controls. I found a job with a wonderful company that has some wonderful people that work along side me. And I've explored my artistic side through writing short stories and writing/recording/performing music for multiple projects, including my own mini-album called, Under No Flag.
Wow, that's strange you know a dude named Tony that writes like me....and i sing "Come Sail Away" very good...in fact, i love Styx. I also sing "Angry Young Man", 'blue Collar Man" and "Crystal Ball" ok.
