I have been away helping a friend recover from knee surgery. I don't know how much I actually helped, but I was there to fetch water and talk and bring bags of ice. I saw that my presence as a witness was maybe the most important contribution, and that I was there to hear if she was in pain or couldn't eat or felt hopeful - the whole gamut of response to a trauma to the body. Her husband is there, but fatigued from worry and too much nursing, and I gave him a little break. It is a gift for other people to let me aid them. I felt their generosity in doing so.
They have three dogs, who were doing their part. The big one was licking her knee area for the fastest healing results, the poodle was on the pillow next to her to keep her company, and the smallest dog was worrying his blanket in a kind of rosary for her well being. They would eagerly have finished her meals, except for due diligence, and ran out in the yard when the sickroom got too boring.
I relaxed into that state where I drop down about five levels, and just be. I was alert if she needed anything, but basically I was another body in the room, in the experience, in that place of injury and gentle healing that requires patience, setting aside agendas, and waiting and seeing. It takes as long as it takes.
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