I believe in God, or a Higher Power, if you will. My faith and belief stems from what I have experienced in my own life though rather than something I was taught. I don't believe that I was made to be like this, I think that it's more complex than that, but I've always rather naively believed that there is a reason for me being the way I am. I may not always know the answer but in recent years especially I have begun to see what I think may be the reason.
I think that the most powerful and meaningful of things we can do is to reach out and touch the life of another person. And for me, being as unique as I am, I can do this without even trying, or knowing that I am doing it at times.
A few years ago I was admitted to hospital to undergo a relatively minor procedure. But what turned out to be a short visit turned out to be a rather long stay. I am of course no stranger to hospitals and have indeed spent a great deal of my life as a child either visiting them in order to see certain specialists or as a patient in them. I used to rather enjoy it as a great deal of fuss always used to be made of me and you get a lot of visitors who all come bearing gifts.
This time around however as an adult I found myself to be suffering from intense boredom after just a few days. There's only so many books you can read and so many TV shows you can watch! It was probably aggravated by the fact that unlike all the other times I was mobile and able to walk around.
And just after a few days walk around I did! After breakfast I would take a leisurely stroll through the hospital garden; on Thursdays - Theatre Thursdays - I would check out the action outside the operating theatre. I was quite entranced by the chemical smells as it brought back a flood of memories of being operated on as a child, most of which I had long since forgotten.
I had my own little fan club in the nurses of the surgical ward who all thought I was fantastic because of my personality and sense of humour. I was asked to meet family members of theirs on more than one occasion. And I even had a potential "love interest" in a beautiful nurse from the intensive care unit. The only problem was that I'd have to go to extreme measures in order to be able to get close to her in the ICU which I wasn't at all prepared to do!
On one such a morning walkabout while I was engrossed in reading the maintanance instructions on the defibralator which stood always at the ready in the corridor of the surgical ward, I heard someone calling to me.
The voice belonged to an elderly lady who lay bed-ridden in one of the semi-private rooms. Her name was Rose and she had been wanting to meet me for quite some time as she had always heard me chatting and laughing with the nurses. She had been in the hospital for quite a long while and wanted to lift up her hospital gown to show me where she recently had surgery. Now if she was a bit younger I wouldn't at all have minded that prospect, but since she was rather old I was very hesitant to see! She lifted up the sheets and her gown to reveal that both her legs were bandaged and in a type of stocking. At the time I felt it a bit impolite to ask any questions and just carried on chatting to her.
I went to visit her everyday after that while doing my "morning rounds" after that. She was a very sweet and kind lady who loved nothing better than to watch the birds from her window. She reminded me a bit of my grandmother who had passed away a few years earlier. We chatted quite a bit and I noticed that she always seemed happy and pleased to see me.
On my last morning in hospital - an unexpectedly sad day for all on the Kingsbury hospital surgical ward, myself included! - I went to say goodbye to her. She told that me she was going home soon as well and couldn't wait to get out into the garden and be with the birds.
A few weeks later, after I had some time to adjust again to the hustle and bustle of the reality of life, I had to go and pay the anethetist's account directly at the anethetists' association. Strangely, this has been the only time since paying my own medical bills that I have been asked to do so.
As I was waiting in the reception area to see the person in charge of the accounts I noticed that the receptionist was looking me up and down. Now when you are a rather unique, limited edition of the human race like me, this is not at all odd but rather normal. But even this to me felt a bit unusal, and finally the lady approached me.
"Excuse me," she said. "Were you a patient in the Kingsbury hospital a few weeks ago by any chance? Is your name Gavin?"
To us who have Moebius this is of course not in the least bit odd, as we are a bit like Tom Cruise without the money, good looks, great job, weird religion and beautiful ex wives - everybody notices us.
"Yes I am," I replied.
"You met my mother Rose, who was also there," she said. "She spoke very fondly of you."
I smiled inwardly as I remembered our morning visits together.
"Yes, I did." I said in a friendly tone as I marveled at the coincidence.
"I have to tell you that she died of cancer last week." she said.
I felt overwhelmingly sad as I suddenly realized why Rose had been in hospital.
"I just want to tell you," she went on as her voice started to tremble, "that you were such an inspiration to my mom. You gave her such hope and courage in the last few days of her life."
I was for once at a complete loss for words - which is a rare occurrence for me indeed!
I really had no idea what my morning visits to Rose must have meant to her. For me it was just a way to be friendly and to relieve boredom. But to her I must have been a lifeline during some of her darkest hours.
Without really knowing it I was reaching out to her and bolstering her spirits during a great time of loneliness in her life. Here's the thing though - I don't think it was really me who was reaching out to her, but rather someone or something else that wanted me to.
This is only one such incident in my life, but it is the one that has touched me the deepest.
By my own admission I am not very religious, in fact I have issues with the so-called Holy Joes who thump their Bible at every given opportunity and who display their righteousness for the world to see, but yet won't stop to help someone in need. In fact that kind of attitude on many occasions has made me question my own beliefs.
I am not perfect and I don't claim to be. A few thousand years ago a really interesting guy who could do some amazing party tricks at weddings chose to hang out with the lepers, the blind and a whole bunch of other undesirables. Had I been there he would've probably hung out with me too.
I think no matter who you are or what you believe - and even if you don't believe - that this force of goodness resides in every one of us. And that it works through us when it needs to.
I believe that on this occasion it worked through me and came from my heart, which ironically is the same place where my smile comes from.
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