Mama, the birds are knocking, a view from the E.R .......by Jamil Shawwa

He is preparing for his Friday visit, as he does every Friday, but this Friday is not as any other Friday. It is bringing memories of his Father's birthday that happened to be on Tuesday of this week and bringing memories of that day in that place with that doctor when they spread the news that his father had an incurable form of cancer. This deadly unbeatable terrorist decided to visit this family again, after the father, it is the mother's turn. The thoughts are mixed with tears coming from his eyes, with all those visits and all these places that he used to take his mother to, spend few hours and take her back. All she wanted he guessed- late as usual, as any parent is to spend time with her sons and daughters, it did not matter where and it did not matter how long as long as it was with her son, on a Friday; his day off during the week. The thoughts continues as he drives, she used to live in another building with his sister and she used to stand by the window in that highrise knowing in advance when her son would arrive just to get ready; she hated to dress up before he arrives, and she did not like his tricky ways of calling her from far enough so when he arrives, she would be waiting for him and he would not have to wait by the entrance staring at the glassy door waiting for her to arrive so he would jump and open the door for her. She used to look forward to those visits from that son. He is getting closer to her new house, she just bought a new apartment with his sister, moved in, and started to have a new life and she is looking forward to new things, she wanted to visit Niagara falls, who knows, maybe she still could. His father passed about thirteen years ago couple of months from now, it was October, and when he passed she cried her lungs out, he was her companion, maybe their life was not all honey and milk but he was her companion. She looked in that night at him and said that the one who loved him has died, and he replied that God bless you, you are here. Now, it is her turn but who knows, God bless her, she is with him, it does not mater how long, it is so irrelevant with a disease like cancer, it is a minute by minute, moment by moment, smile by smile, touch by touch. No looking forward here, really, it is just looking and capturing this moment and the rest to be dealt with when it comes. He arrived, with heavy steps, called in, his sister opened, went to his mother who looked with weak eyes, and talked with heavy voice, she was in her new bed, enjoying the views of the outside, he can see her birds knocking at her windows, she loved to feed the birds, she would even in the nicest restaurants insist in taking the soft heart of the bread, crumble it, put it in a tissue, put it in her bag so she can feed her birds. Those same birds probably were the ones that have been knocking on his windows trying to send him a message that he got, as usual, late. They, the birds, for the past two weeks have been coming, same time that terrorist has started to attack this innocent creature that never in her life has been happier than when she used to see other people happy. He has always been amazed at this mother, her happiness in giving others what she has, what she owns. His father God bless his soul was the same. They both were like that; they were happy helping people even when they did not have much. All they wanted, just that really, was appreciation or good treatment. Nothing more. They were very generous but they both would revolt if they were treated badly. He kissed her hands as he usually does and her cheeks. He told her you look fantastic, it is time for lunch. She looked, smiled, and said that she cannot, maybe next week; she said that with a smile, not as clear as the first one. He insisted as he usually does, maybe he is selfish, he wanted to have his lunch in his regular time, but not this time, he was not selfish, he really wanted to treat his mother to an exclusive lunch at his exclusive place, but it did not meant to be. His sister broke the news, the hospital called and she was to be admitted to do further examinations, so instead of the Friday lunch at that place, it was the Friday at the Emergency Room; Cancer is prevailing again, he is again hitting the pure and the innocent. He is again sending the same message as the rest of the terrorists all over the world, which he, Cancer, will hit hard, and will strike bad. He is telling us to add him to the list of his peers, the terrorists, to the list that we have, we have to add actually all the names of this one terrorist, and he has many names and many faces. The bag is prepared, but this time not to deliver a baby as she did when she delivered her sons and the daughters, the bag is prepared today to take it with her to the E.R. They drove in two cars, got into the E.R, into the Triage Room, and then admitted inside the E.R. From there, the journey began, the routine started, doves of nurses coming and going, few doctors appearing and disappearing, tons of questions asked and tons of answers delivered. After that ordeal, she was admitted to her regular room, her room for the coming few days. She got situated, turned the TV on to her favorite channel, went for another exam, C-Scan and came back. In all this, she did not forget her son, the demanding one, the spoiled one with his routine that was broken today; he did not care, he is enjoying every moment with his mother. She ordered him and his sister to get some lunch, actually, it was an early dinner, and she requested some, a consume, chicken. He ate and they ate, the atmosphere is somber, but not depressed, the doctors had to be frank with her and told her the expectations and the diagnosis; strangely, she felt wonderful after that, as if a burden has been lifted off her tired shoulders, she was quiet, normal, smiling, she is happy, no more torture, no more wondering, no more speculating. She looked back, I remember, and up and down and all of a sudden, the bird that she used to feed, came knocking again, she looked at him, and to his astonishment and amazement, she pointed to her bag, and she got an old tissue, handed to him, asked him to go out and spread the bread crumbs. She said do not worry, the birds are following me, they are as he is, have a routine, and they expect their meal on time so go and feed them. She looked again, and said that she read what he wrote yesterday and raised her head and smiled and told him, hey listen to me, we are going to beat this terrorist this time, go and feed the birds, smoke a cigarette as you usually do and come back, we have work to do.