Wating for Michael at the VA

I sat, slowly sipping a cup of steaming coffee from Starbucks, watching, wincing and wondering how do they? The remnants of 'wars past' circulated about the huge, open lobby all afternoon...360 degrees. Veterans, young, old, hobbling, shuffling but all with purpose.
Modes of movement included crutches, wheel chairs, powered electric chairs, canes and more. They ambled relentlessly throughout the day. As I watched, my mind searched for 'clues' to those people. Many of them were in far worse shape than myself.
Life stories were etched in their tanned, weathered and wrinkled faces. Arms showed scars, sores where one clawed at the back of his right arm and legs showed torment. The most prominent case were those who had no legs. Somehow, the smiles on those faces once in a while showed what the inner person possessed.
In a place such as the VA, not only do you witness broken limbs, but the bodies 'scream' body language which exudes broken hearts. For a few...memories are all they have in this world today. Some come and go with families, others are dropped from service vehicles at the front door. Alone. Almost helpless.
Suddenly, the most tragic story I witnessed today wheeled around the West hall corner. A large woman, dressed very well, seated in a massive power chair. She was paralyzed...her left finger able to push her power button. From the left arm of her chair a tube ran to her face. As she powered past me, she continuously 'nursed' life from that oxygen line. Everything about her was 'rigged' and she was on a mission.
She had come, she had seen her doctor and she was headed home!
Although her head was poised to the left without movement, her eyes searched the wide open space as she moved through. I doubt she missed a thing!
Across from my table, an old veteran steadied himself on the high stool beside the small, round table top. His coffee cup barely landed securely on the table and I watched his old, worn hands tremble as he gently lifted the lid off the cup. Finally, the lid was replaced, but the back edge was hung on the lip of his cup. I slid from my chair to offer a hand. "Hot coffee in your lap's the last thing you need today!" He replied, "Yes it is..." in a whisper almost too low to understand. His voice box had been damaged and he struggled to communicate.
Drink finished, he slowly slid from his chair, ambled to the trash to throw his trash away and headed down the long, dark hall. His feet shuffled in baby steps, but he moved rapidly in stealth mode. As I watched him move down the dimly lit hall, my thoughts tugged at my soul.
Americans, seeking health care at the beautiful DeBakey VA in Houston...they came in droves. My eyes slowly trailed up to the landing above the open lobby. The title beneath the handsome, young man in uniform read:
1945
Dr. Michael E. DeBakey, Colonel, U.S. Army, Medical Corps
Soldier, Surgeon, Statesman
If it were not for men like him who loved our country enough to sacrifice life and/or limb, where would we be today?
I have no answers,but I have witnessed the proof of strong Americans. Their 'spirit' still resides deep within their souls. If this was not so, they would have given up and given in a long time ago.
To witness these people today reminded me ... I have very few problems. Obstacles, yes. Workable? Yes. Our society would far better if more Americans today were steeped in loyalty and love of country as all the Veterans are. The pride shows whether on a decorated cap or a decorated wheel chair that moves with American flags flying behind it.
The most touching part of the day was a strong, able man crossing the open floor. He was heading towards a very crippled individual in a wheel chair. The only thing the young man could do was push the button to move the chair. He had drool slipping over his bottom lip and his 'wipe towel' lay lifeless in his lap. I admit, I had to turn away from the site...and when I turned back to see if he had passed by a typical kind 'vet to vet' act occurred.
Vets love vets. They respect each other, they've all shared war. The strong man went straight to the wheel chair, put his left hand gently on the young man's shoulder as he lifted the 'wipe towel' from his lap and wiped the mucous away.
As he patted the man's shoulder and dropped the towel, he lifted his eyes as he looked my way. I nodded and winked as he nodded yes at me. A silent act. A random act. A loving act. Huge tears welled in my eyes as I sat and pondered what I had just witnessed. How powerful was that? I turned away, a 'vet' gave a 'silent, helping hand'.
Some gave all...what have I truly given? Think about it.