Thursday, September 26, 2013

BETO'S NO VEGETABLE!


From time to time faces, along with their stories, appear from the past. This face, this smile is etched like braille in my heart. It was a cold winter afternoon in barrio Obrara, as eight-year-old Beto was returning from school, a speeding car traveling way to fast for the narrow street hit Beto, spinning him headlong into the road. In a matter of time they lifted the bloodied unconscious boy into the Red Cross ambulance and sped him to a small local hospital. His school buddies looking on.

The orphanage director called me and told me of the accident.

In the morning I drove across the border to the hospital. Beto, his head bandaged and still unconscious, was laying there in the cold room under a blanket all tubed up.

Every day I visited him. He remained unconscious with his I. V. and other tubes in his body.

Then, it started.

When I visited, I would find him with only his pajama bottoms on and his cover wadded up beside him. His body sort of bluish and shivering. I spoke to the nurses asking them to keep him covered.

In San Diego I called several hospitals asking them if they could find a bed for Beto. When I explained that he had been unconscious for several days, my answer was always no. Finally a more empathetic Doctor cut through my emotions with the bare truth. "Anyone comatose for more than four days has little chance of recovering his mind. If he comes here, he will simply fill a bed for many years ... we're sorry."

Again, I would cross over to visit little Beto, I couldn't believe he was just a vegetable. Again, I would find him without covers, his body cold and shivering. Again, I would beg the nurses to keep him covered.

I came to the conclusion; that's how you dealt with the comatose in Mexico. You let them get pneumonia and die of natural causes.

I didn't want to leave, but I had committed to a long weekend of speaking. I would have to leave him, and his nurses in God's hands.

When I returned to the hospital Tuesday morning I was prepared for the worst. I slowly walked down the hallway. Suddenly! Who should appear, wheeling himself around the corner in a little wheelchair, but Beto! When he saw me, his face lit up with a wide smile that I'll never forget! "Von! Von!! Brother Von!!!" He yelled as he sped toward me! "You're here!!!"

Little Beto defied all odds ... he made it!