Recently, we cared for a frail man in his late fifties. He came in gasping for air. His heart raced, and each breath was a challenge. His lungs crackled with every inhale. Both his face and feet were swollen.

The ECG was very abnormal, and the chest X-ray showed fluid in his lungs.

When he arrived at our ICU, we quickly put him on a mechanical ventilator. Drugs flowed through several pumps into his body. Tubes filled his windpipe, stomach, and urethra. Wires hung across his chest, and the monitors beeped relentlessly. It felt like a maze of machines.

He couldnโ€™t speak, and we couldnโ€™t connect with him.

Three days later, one by one, the tubes began to come out. He started to breathe more comfortably.

Thatโ€™s when we learned something remarkable. He had been blind since he was two years old. A smallpox infection had stolen his sight. But instead of letting this define him, he embraced life. He attended a school for the blind in Wardhamaneri, about 70 km northeast of Sevagram. With determination, he earned postgraduate degrees in arts and educationโ€”an M.A and an M.Ed.

For 30 years, he thrived as a teacher. In a zilla parishad school in Wardha district, he taught languages to children. He opened their minds to the beauty of words, helping them dive into rich literature. Books became his refuge. His zeal for teaching lit up the room.

Students adored him. Parents praised him. His family admired him.

This year, he retired, ready for a new chapter. But then, tragedy struck.

He was diagnosed with a rare heart disease that caused proteins to accumulate in his heart. This made it hard for his heart to pump. Blood pooled in his lungs and legs, leaving him breathless.

Once, he was full of life. He played cricket and kabaddi, competing with other visually impaired athletes. He trekked mountains every year and walked ten kilometers daily. But now, he could barely walk a block. Climbing just a few steps left him gasping for air. The simple activities he once did effortlessly felt like climbing a mountain.

Yet, his spirit remained unbroken. He smiled as he shared stories of his past. โ€œI have lived a very good life,โ€ he said. โ€œI enjoyed everything I did. I was lucky. A good school, a fulfilling job, a caring wife, and two wonderful kids. No regrets. If this is my path, I will endure. I have climbed mountains before; this is just a small hill.โ€

I listened, captivated by his resilience. He was a master storyteller, painting pictures with his words. As he finished his tale, tears filled my eyes.

He didnโ€™t see them.