She recognized my aunt, who greeted her politely (too politely. I know. Well, because she's my aunt. I know her normal politeness), turned towards me, rolled her eyes, looked back at her with the same polite look, introduced us, told her about why we were there, asked her why she was there, agreed that it was a good idea for her to keep me company, said bye to her with a quick smile, and as soon as she was out of earshot, told me, 'Stay away from her'.
Of course, I couldn't. Not all the time. We were both there in the waiting room. More often than not, day and night.
The conviction of knowing that one is right, always right. She had it. Oh, the confidence she exuded.
Her husband was the one in the ICU, hospitalized for the second time within a couple of months.
She would either be praying or talking.
She talked about how she had single-handedly nursed her husband back to health the last time. I felt like raising my hand to get her to pause her monologue and ask her why he was sick again since she believed she was that good. Well, for sake of your own sanity, you don't ask questions from the ones who already are speaking too much and to whom any kind of argument and/or discussion is futile.
She said that the last time she had told God, 'I am not leaving the hospital without taking my husband along'.
Her husband didn't make it. But maybe that's because she did go home once during the time that he was hospitalized.
What place does ego have in a place like this?
Well, there was the 'cold stare guy', the one who never talked to anyone. Who sat in the one chair allocated to him at a place where no one cared about this rule. Was it ego? I think not.
But then when someone boasts about how their loved one recovered from an illness because of their care or prayers or stubbornness with God. Ego.