A miracle

  

I held back the tears of joy replacing them with a smile as he walked into the rehab cafeteria.

Walked.

Nine months before he was in a coma from a horrendous car accident.

He will leave rehab but continue with daily physio as an out patient.

He is special to me, my wantabe brother.

I met him 32 years ago when we shared the company flat. It started a friendship full of backgammon games, trips to Garmish, Paris, Geneva, Payerne, Boston and Argelès where he married the girl next door. He has stayed with me in all those places depending on his work assignments.

I was one of his marriage witnesses. He performed the commitment ceremony for Rick and me. We jokingly call him Father.

We've shared music, concerts, meals, adventures, conversations on every topic imaginable. We've shared dreams and frustrations. When we lived together we would go shopping in France in the morning, turn down a road that looked interesting and not get home until nightfall.

Sometimes weeks would go by and we would have no contact. Other times it was daily or weekly.

When Rick came home before Christmas and told me he's seen the wife who talked about him being in a coma. He'd been on his way to pick up the keys of my studio that he sometimes used as his office. I wondered why he never arrived. I never imagined the accident, the airlift, the intensive care.

Sleepless nights, even more than usual, followed wondering if he would make it. Would I lose this much loved friend? If he lived what would be his condition?

He lived and he was transferred to a beautiful rehab overlooking the Med.

Each visit he progressed a bit more -- out of sheer determination. It was a cause for celebration when he set up in bed, moved to a wheel chair, walked with crutches, a crutch and then without.

He leaves rehab this week but he has months of physio on an out patient still repairing the damage done.

I wish I could say I was proud of him, but he did it himself. All I could do was cheer him on with visits, with emails, with youtubes.

"One day at a time," he would tell me. 

I laughed when he told me how he had started a paper airplane game in the cafeteria with other patients.

My friend is a walking, talking medical miracle.