Robin

 Life has taught me that we are never as unique as we think.  I thought I could be the only person in the world with a liver half implanted.  I was not.  One day the nurses moved a woman named Robin to the other side of the glass partition.  Robin was like me - with a partial liver transplant and waiting to be stable enough to complete the process.  I had tubes in place, but I could speak.  Robin could not.

I heard the nurses in the hall worrying that Robin was giving up.  They kept playing Bruno Mars for her, because she liked music.  That day they got Robin and me up at the same time in chairs.  I'm loosely calling them chairs.  They were gurneys that mechanically changed into the chair position - more like large thrones.  Robin and I met.  We tried to communicate, and she finally wrote me a note.  It said, "I am so tired!"  I knew exactly what she meant and felt a kindred spirit in her.

I knew we both needed something to strengthen us, so I asked the nurse for my phone.  I began to play gospel music.  Robin smiled.  She reached over and grabbed my hand. For a while we "danced" to the music by swinging our clasped hands back and forth and nodding to the music a bit.  It wasn't much of a dance, but it was what we had in us. The nurses cheered us on. 

When we grew tired after a few minutes, I asked Robin if she'd like me to pray for her.  Her eyes watered and she nodded.  I thanked God for bringing us this far, then I told God how tired we were and prayed for Him to strengthen us and to see us through successful surgeries ahead.  It was a simple prayer, but we both felt the presence of God wrap his arms around us.  It was a moment I will never forget.  We weren't the only ones who felt it.  When I looked up, all of the nurses and doctors in the ward had tears on their face.  Several weeks later, on a different floor, people mentioned that the story of that incident was talked about throughout the hospital - much to my surprise.  I knew it had impacted Robin and me, but I didn't see it from an onlooker's perspective.

The next morning, I headed into surgery to complete the transplant.  That was the last I ever saw Robin, but I'll remember her forever.  I did ask after her before I left the hospital and was told that she recovered and was doing well.  Thank God!

My sweet hubby sent this sleep mask to

my room to help me block out the bright

lights of the ICU.  It smelled like his

cologne and made quite a stir with the nurses.