Two weeks ago, we visited a hospital far in the mountains where they took care of children who were mentally and physically handicapped severely. It was sad to read their charts, how some of them ended up there -- some parents didn't want to take care of them anymore because their handicap was too much to handle, while others hadn't wanted them in the first place, abusing them until they had to be hospitalized.
But what also shocked me was when I saw full grown adults who weren't all that different from the children -- just a bit larger in size. With medicine's advancement, the severely handicapped children can now grow up and live on to become adults. It must be something to be celebrated. But to be totally honest, I felt this unfathomable sadness when I saw the adults lying side by side on the futons, hardly able to move, not being able to say one word. I was embarrassed to feel that way, because who was I to decide that they were unhappy or that they couldn't even tell if they were happy or not?
Back in the university hospital, the doctors were discussing what they should do about a two year old boy with cerebral palsy whose mother had left the hospital without notice. The boy was so small, soundly asleep in the hospital's large bed, and I thought about the adults I saw in the hospital in the mountains, the future versions of the little boy. Of course, the doctors had done their best to save him, and were still trying to find the best place for him to live.
Because every life is worth living. Every life.
