第三章 有一种幸福叫守候（14）
《世界上最温情的故事》作者：吴文智 2017-04-14 12:57
第三章 有一种幸福叫守候（14）
So when Michael asked her the big question, she didn’t think she could handle the pain if he was teasing.
“He told me he loved me, and I was so scared,” she said. “I thought he was playing a game with me. But he told me it was true. He told me he loved me.”
On Valentine’s Day, Juana wore a wedding dress made of white satin, dotted with pearl beads and cut loose enough to drape around a wheelchair and a ventilator. Juana was rolled to the front of the room, assisted by Harry, who proudly gave the bride away. Her face streamed with tears.
Michael wore a crisp white shirt, black Jacket and a bow tie that fit neatly over his tracheotomy. He beamed with pleasure.
Nurses filled the doorways. Patients filled the room. An overflow of hospital employees spilled into the halls. Sobs echoed in every corner of the room. In the hospital’s history, no two people—living their lives bound to wheelchairs—had ever married.
Janet Yamaguchi, the hospital’s recreation leader, had planned everything. Employees had donated their own money to buy the red and white balloons, matching flowers, and an archway dotted with leaves. Janet had the hospital chef make a three-tiered, lemon-filled wedding cake. A marketing consultant hired a photographer.
Janet negotiated with f***ly members. It was one of the most trying and satisfying times of her life to watch the couple get married.
She thought of everything.
The final touch—the kiss—could not be completed. Janet used a white satin rope to tie the couple’s wheelchairs to symbolize the romantic moment.
After the ceremony, the minister slipped out trying to hold back her tears. “I’ve performed thousands of
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So when Michael asked her the big question, she didn’t think she could handle the pain if he was teasing.
“He told me he loved me, and I was so scared,” she said. “I thought he was playing a game with me. But he told me it was true. He told me he loved me.”
On Valentine’s Day, Juana wore a wedding dress made of white satin, dotted with pearl beads and cut loose enough to drape around a wheelchair and a ventilator. Juana was rolled to the front of the room, assisted by Harry, who proudly gave the bride away. Her face streamed with tears.
Michael wore a crisp white shirt, black Jacket and a bow tie that fit neatly over his tracheotomy. He beamed with pleasure.
Nurses filled the doorways. Patients filled the room. An overflow of hospital employees spilled into the halls. Sobs echoed in every corner of the room. In the hospital’s history, no two people—living their lives bound to wheelchairs—had ever married.
Janet Yamaguchi, the hospital’s recreation leader, had planned everything. Employees had donated their own money to buy the red and white balloons, matching flowers, and an archway dotted with leaves. Janet had the hospital chef make a three-tiered, lemon-filled wedding cake. A marketing consultant hired a photographer.
Janet negotiated with f***ly members. It was one of the most trying and satisfying times of her life to watch the couple get married.
She thought of everything.
The final touch—the kiss—could not be completed. Janet used a white satin rope to tie the couple’s wheelchairs to symbolize the romantic moment.
After the ceremony, the minister slipped out trying to hold back her tears. “I’ve performed thousands of