I have been extremely fortunate to meet, and interact with many lovely people, but one particular person will forever hold a special place in my heart. He is an extraordinary gentleman in a number of ways. This singular man has taught so much about life, and fully embracing each moment presented to us. Most of all he has shown me the power of healing. He has reignited my hope, and courage by witnessing his incredible strength, and determination. This is Henrik's(Henry) story.
About two months ago Henry fell into a coma after a surgery. In his younger years, he was an exquisite ballroom dancer. Born in Austria, Henry started dancing at the age of 3. By the time he was 9 he had moved to the United States with his mom to pursue his dream of being a competitive dancer. He wanted nothing more than to be a world-renown phoneme, whom would change the perspective of ballroom dancing. That is also when he changed his name to Henry. His coach thought an Austrian name would hold him back in the competitive dance circuit. He would do anything to improve his chances of becoming a successful dancer, so from that day on, he only addressed himself as Henry.
Henry has shared with me positively charming stories about his competitive dance days time, and time again. The stories never grew tiresome because Henry told them with such passion. His face would light up when he talked about his favorite dances. He remembered every step, and every song. Occasionally he would stop mid-story, and hum these absolutely romantic melodies. He would lose himself in these memories. I could see him being transported back to such a wonderful time. He would escape cancer, and all his pain by reliving these glorious dances. He created these beautifully peaceful moments for us both. It was the most amazing sight. I felt like I was on the dance floor with him.
Henry was never at a loss for funny, and interesting narratives. One of my favorites is his story about the exacerbating process it took for him to find a dance partner. We have laughed over, and over about the struggles he had finding the perfect dance partner. He never had anything nice to say about these ladies. The women were either too clumsy, too slow, or two high maintenance. The names he called them were hilarious. Luckily, after two years, he found the perfect girl. Weeding through the slew of terrible partners was over at last. He found his match, and once again he experienced his true love for every aspect of the dance.
He would explain that when he danced he had no worries, or cares in the world. He could forget about life for a while, and glide across the dance floor. After Henry fell into the coma, I would go into his room and play the music from his favorite dance. Sometimes I would talk to him while the song was playing. I would go through each dance step to the best of my memory. He always said that he was floating on air when he danced, so I made sure to always say that.
The day Henry came out of his coma, he asked his nurse to find out if I was in the hospital. He wanted to see me. I was paged by his nurses station. I wasn't expecting the page, so I was anxious to find out the reason I had been summoned. In healthcare the news is usually very good, or very bad. There is no in-between. My heart was beating out of control as I stepped out of the elevator, and onto the cold white tile of his hospital floor. I slowly walked up to the nurses station, still overwhelmed by anxiety. I told(my voice cracking a bit) the petite gray-haired woman that I was Megan Kleinman. She stopped me mid-sentence, and said that she recognized me from my visits with Henry. I was flattered that she remembered me, but I was still uncertain why I was asked to come up to Henry's floor. She didn't give me any information. She only told me that someone in Henry's room wanted to see me. I told her thank you, and nervously made my way to his room. I was unaware what I would find when I entered his room. It was a matter of life, or death. Like I explained earlier, with matters of health it was either really good, or really bad. I arrived at his door, and I was on the verge of a panic attack. I took a deep breath, and gently pushed the door open. Thankfully I was welcomed by the most incredible sight. After two months, Henry woke up! I was elated! I ran over to give him a huge hug. As we embraced he whispered in my ear...thanks for all the dances.
I was overcome by emotion. I held him tighter, as we shared tears of joy. The power of the mind, and body never cease to amaze me. Even in a comatose state he heard the music I played for him. He was dancing along side me every time! He was unable to respond to it at the time, but he assured me he was dancing. We were floating on air.
His life reminds me of a passage from my favorite poem by Frost. "I like to get away from earth for a while, and then come back to it, and begin over."
Henry needed to leave earth for a while so he could begin again stronger, and with a clear head. He needed to be transported back to a carefree, and happier time, so he could continue his fight.
No comments:
Post a Comment