Was this an Angel?
I was lying in a critical care room in the Main Hospital in Puebla Mexico following a mountain climbing accident. Our rope team, consisting of a guide and 3 clients had fallen/slipped on the slopes of El Pico de Orizaba (Citlaltépetl). Matthew Nelson, a member of another climbing party, assisted in the rescue and wrote an article about his experience, “Rescue on Citlaltépetl, Mexico’s Angry Volcano“.
All four of us that were injured, where in this room. We all had different injuries. Mine were the least serious, having just broken both of my ankles, a common injury for an alpine mountaineer wearing crampons during a fall. In one corner there was a nurses station/counter. Occasionally, one of us would be wheeled out for more X-rays or surgeries, or to treat another complication. A group of medical students came through as well and discussed my case. In communication with our trip leader, I was opting to not have surgeries in Mexico and instead arrange a Medi-evac flight back to the states. Since my injuries were not life threatening, that seemed reasonable. We just needed to pay my bill in cash before they would let me leave. That is a story in itself.
We were actually not there that long, although long enough to receive a meal or two. Not knowing much Spanish didn’t help much. The nurses behind the counter, all wearing white scrubs, eventually asked a housekeeper sweeping the floor to assist as she knew some English. This helped me procure a needed bedpan after those meals.
Sometime during my brief stay a woman came into the room and came to my bedside. She didn’t visit the other beds, only mine. She was short and wearing an old dress and headscarf like a peasant in poorer clothes. She also seemed older based on the dress, at least that was the impression I had. She definitely wasn’t wearing whites like the others. Her presence didn’t seem to even be noticed by the nurses and caretakers. What I recall is she came to my bedside and prayed. I did not understand what she was saying.
A lot of activity had happened around me in the previous hours, and this just seemed like another experience in a Mexican hospital. I regret that I didn’t observe more closely. I do not recall her face, her eyes, or whether she took my hand in hers. Only later did I realize that this seemed rather odd.
The day of the accident was December 12th, the feast day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a recognized symbol of Catholic Mexicans. She reportedly said to Juan Diego, “¿No estoy yo aquí que soy tu madre?” (“Am I not here, I who am your mother?”). I’m speculating here, but perhaps The Virgin of Guadalupe was my protector on this trip. I certainly hold no ill will toward anyone or anything regarding the trip or my experience. And in all respects, it seemed like I did have a protector or guardian angel looking after me, helping me off the mountain, guiding me safely home and through the subsequent surgeries.
So did an angel visit my bedside?