A Million-Dollar Smile

I came across the following passage in the book "Handbook for the Ministers of Care."

"A person who undergoes surgery to amputate arms or legs, or to remove part or all of the breast or other body organs may feel that their appearance has been disfigured, but more importantly, they may feel that their self-worth has been damaged. Those who experience such events realize that their bodies can never be the same as before, and the affected area cannot be fully replaced. Besides physical pain, such injuries also come with a mental shock. Some individuals find it challenging to cope with these changes, unable to accept them and falling into sadness. Others may spiral into depression, vehemently refusing rehabilitation training. The most common reactions people exhibit towards such injuries are grief, depression, and anger. Progressing to the acceptance stage depends on one's ability to manage themselves in the face of such injuries or crises. Dealing with this shock involves how willingly a patient expresses their feelings about such injuries."

 

After losing one leg in a traffic accident, reading such a passage resonates with me. Two months after the accident, when I regained consciousness, I discovered that my leg had been amputated. I endured excruciating pain for six months; unable to eat, drink, or even speak due to damage to my vocal cords and swallowing muscles.

Looking back now after many years, I feel that I handled the events of that time quite stoically. Despite severe physical pain, I thought it was bearable and believed that with time, I could adapt to the physical changes. Anger? I didn't feel it strongly. I thought to myself that such things could happen to anyone, anytime. The ability to turn away from bad things and always live with a sense of humor that wants to smile was a great help in my recovery.

Unable to speak and lacking energy, my only means of communication was through facial expressions. To convey the message, "I'm okay. Don't worry," I always smiled. Every visitor to the hospital was amazed to see me smiling in such a dire situation. The American priest who visited every week would often say, "Wow, you've got a million-dollar smile!" Doctors and nurses at the hospital also liked me, always smiling.

 

I moved to a rehabilitation center with a specialist in walking exercises, and adjusting the prosthetic limb. I was overjoyed to come back to life, delighted as my health recovered day by day, and filled with happiness at the thought of being able to walk with both legs through training. So, I always lived with a smiling face. When I registered at the rehabilitation center, I went in a wheelchair. After much practice, one day I finally started walking with a walker.

 

Is it like the heart of a baby taking its first steps? Taking each step carefully; I happened to meet an American lady around my age. She was shedding tears as if overwhelmed by emotions. Later, during lunch at the same table, she said, "I had a mild stroke, and walking was uncomfortable. I was pessimistic and had given up on everything. I was even reluctant to undergo rehabilitation training. I've been watching you from the beginning.

 

It's amazing that someone who lost one leg can always smile. Today, you finally got up and walked. I was so touched that tears came out without me realizing it. Now, I've decided to work hard on rehabilitation training too." I was pleased that my smile could give courage to others. During my long stay in the hospital, I consistently promised myself one thing: "I will always live with a smile from now on."