The Long Road Ahead

 

The Long Road Ahead…

We see the injuries – the ones that are outside, and our heart goes out to them. Yet, do we see the agony and enduring inside? These are the luckier overcomers of the Pakistan Earthquake who on account of the unselfishness of the UAE Govt. have been flown in with their chaperons so they can be mended and sent back.

 

There is 13-year old Muzammil – he is snoozing, yet tears are running down from the edges of his eyes. He is perspiring abundantly from the fever he has because of his injuries. "Muzammil" says the Nurse, tenderly, delicately, "You have guests." He opens his eyes and there is a look of sheer fear in them. Then, at that point he understands that he is away from the shuddering earth and obliteration where his whole family died.

 

I see a young lady, Nusrat who is in a ton of agony. She is excellent and close to 18 years of age. She has been worked upon for wounds to her spine. She won't grin and will not eat. My primary care physician companion reveals to her that if Allah has saved her, it more likely than not been on purpose. Presently it's anything but for her to starve herself to death. She says she can't eat, that the food just will not go down. We don't ask her what occurred. We need her to talk time permitting, just when she is prepared. Scratching her injuries to fulfill our interest won't help – it will essentially cause her to remember her bad dream.

 

Then, at that point there is severely harmed Hina, whose 3-month old baby has been flown in with her alongside her old grandma. The child kid, wrapped up like a group, lying in the bed close to her, advises us that wonders are conceivable – that Allah can do all things.

 

Close to them there is a moderately aged couple. The spouse, Shabana Bibi, has endured serious wounds. They have figured out how to save her leg from being severed. She has additionally experienced some skin joining, with skin taken from her thigh to be utilized somewhere else. She is in torment, sore all over, however so understanding and grateful to Allah for being alive. Her significant other, I get the inclination, is harming more for her than she is herself. 

They don't have anything left with the exception of whatever they might be wearing. He is open, as though by discussing his torment, he figures he may feel much improved. He portrays how when the quake came, he saw two mountains moving from their place, coming nearer to one another and pounding the valley in the middle – just as its occupants! His eyes fog as he depicts the misery and the loathsomeness upon awfulness when the downpour descended – and afterward the hailstones. They were quite strict individuals in his town, he says, so who were instrumental in causing Allah's reprimand to slip upon them, he ponders. I ask him what makes him think it was discipline and not a preliminary – his and our own – his in his difficulty and our own in our flourishing. I think he gets my point.

 

Then, at that point there is Jamil the 11-year old who ran 15 kms with a major cut on his head and draining plentifully. A long distance runner really taking shape, we bother him. He grins, maybe interestingly since the day he dropped in the wake of seeing the valley covered with broken furnishings and bodies. Why, he ponders, that demise came to so numerous regardless of running so quick but then the most far-fetched individuals endure.

 

In the youngsters' ward, there is likewise 5 year-old Munawar with his hands and feet all wrapped. This youngster has an absolutely vague look all over. I attempt to make him giggle by doing a little manikin show for him with his delicate toys, however there is no change at all in his looks. These are unseeing eyes that don't grasp anything. "O Allah, kindly assistance him", I ask from the actual profundity of my being.

 

The chaperon of the beautiful minimal 3-year old Gulnaz in a similar room ends up being her dad. She is totally dressed up, while as per him, he has just a 'slight' injury on his foot which he shows me. He is a fearless man, taking into account that his better half and child were among the setbacks and little Gulnaz is the lone family he has left. Will his injury mend? He is so formed while my heart drains for his misfortune. The possibly hint I get to his torment is the point at which he inquires as to whether he can get a 'pass' to go to Saudi Arabia and do Umrah. Furthermore, he doesn't have a visa !

 

Then, at that point there is the old woman, Shaheen, whose moderately aged child is her orderly. Her rib confine was squashed. She has been worked upon and is being advised to inhale into some sort of a hand contraption, something fundamental for her to do so her lungs will extend. She says it is too hard to even think about doing and she will do it after she recovers. She snatches my hand while I am perusing the Quranic stanzas of Healing over her and demands that I blow on her when I am finished. How goes it with you? I say to her child. "You look drained.

" They have separate dozing quarters, so I can't sort out why he has dark circles under his eyes and looks half-debilitated. "Can't rest", he murmurs. "Apprehensive that I may awaken to another quake." "Do you figure I can at any point walk once more?" says 16-year old Ayesha as tears roll down her cheeks. I realize that she can feel nothing beneath her abdomen and has been estimated for a wheelchair by the medical clinic specialists. " You need to accept that Allah has control over all things," I say, evading an immediate answer to her inquiry. After all we should likewise fly on the wing of expectation and not simply dread, else we will go down.

 

Then, at that point there is Fatima, a teacher whose spouse's shop tumbled down on him and he was squashed starting from the neck. She discovered him under the flotsam and jetsam, with almost no life left in him and left no stone unturned to get him clinical assistance. A few medical procedures later, he is as yet in a bad way and she will not walk out on him. He has bad dreams thus does she, however she has such fortitude and assurance that I nearly envy her. 

She has left her 2 little kids with her companions in Pakistan and is extremely clear in her psyche that her significant other starts things out. Teary, she gladly shows me their photos which have been messaged to her and my heart goes out to her. I can see by how she is talking that she is setting out toward a mental meltdown. This one necessities the most assistance, I say to myself, since we can't see her injuries.

 

At this point it is me that is completely mutilated up inside. The grin all over has quit arriving at my eyes – it has essentially frozen all the rage. These are the scenes that we should become accustomed to, these are individuals we need to help. While we drain inside for them, we should be solid outwardly for them, for they truly need us. I'm helped to remember what our Prophet (saw) said: "The Muslims in their shared love, graciousness and sympathy, resemble the human body where one of its parts is in anguish, the whole body feels the torment both in restlessness and fever." "O Allah!" I shout to Him, "Please, if it's not too much trouble, assist us with aiding them."

 

(The names in this story have been changed to ensure the personality of the patients)