The first time I met Kishor, I was struck by his remarkable outlook on life.
A month and a half ago, he broke his spine when struck by a truck while working as a labourer. Though he’d been rushed to hospital, his friends’ lack of funds and know-how meant he received somewhat inadequate treatment. He had been bedridden since, with no sensation or movement in the lower half of his body. To make matters worse, he had developed a massive bedsore on his back. When I saw him lying there in his tiny, filthy shack and sweating under a summer sun, the cry of Job’s wife came to mind: “Why don’t you curse God and die?”
Yet Kishor was smiles and charm. He tried out his English and asked where I was from. He started reminiscing stories of his old days and telling me: “Just wait til I get better, and I’ll take you to visit my hometown.” I reviewed his medical paperwork and we discussed the next steps – getting an air-mattress and improving the frequency and quality of bedsore dressing. But as much as he appreciated the practical help I offered, it was clear he equally needed a friend just to listen to him.
Kishor and I started engaging with the medical system – a challenge, given the coronavirus situation and lockdown. But once we were able to get through and talk to an orthopaedic surgeon, the prognosis was grim: highly unlikely that Kishor will ever be able to walk again. Kishor’s outlook fell dramatically. He had been bearing terrible pain with a desperate hope that one day soon he would be healed.
I have tried to comfort Kishor, reminding him that nothing is impossible for God, encouraging him to keep praying for a miracle. Yet his response was from the gut: “if God loves me and can heal me, then what the hell is he waiting for?” I started formulating a nuanced, contextual theological answer (in Hindi) – but then I saw a tear roll down his cheek. And in that moment I knew that my answers (much like Job’s friends’) fell far short of the mark, and that my role was just to shut up and be there. I hope that, in time, God will offer his own answer to Kishor’s question.
As Kishor grappled with his prognosis and with his pain, his friends and I purchased a brace and a wheelchair. For the last couple weeks, I’ve been helping Kishor sit up and go out, which has been a source of great pleasure for him.
I’ve been journeying with Kishor for about two months now. It’s been a road as rough as the rocky land which his wheelchair bumps over each morning. It’s been a path strewn with interesting learning (how negative pressure therapy works for a bedsore) and tricky dilemmas (how to take up some responsibilities for Kishor but not let his other friends and neighbours off the hook). Through all his suffering and questions, I continue to appreciate Kishor’s personality. Please pray for Kishor: for his bedsore, for his mental health, for his healing.
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