later　I　was　wheeled　into　a　recovery　room；　and　a　very　few　hours　after　being　returned　to　my　own　hospital　room；　I　found　myself　actually　on　my　feet；　half　walking；　half　propelled　by　medical　equipment　and　members　of　my　family。　The　orders　were　to　walk　the　length　and　back　of　the　long　hospital　corridor。

It　was　then　that　I　first　saw　him。　I　saw　him　through　a　haze　of　drugs；　pain　and　the　dreamy　unreality　that　this　could　be　happening　to　me。　He　was　standing　in　the　doorway　of　a　hospital　room。　In　my　twilight；　unfocused　state　I　saw　him　almost　as　a　spirit　shape　rather　than　a　full　blown　person。　Yet　the　body　language　of　this　shape　was　somehow　sending　out　sympathy　and　encouragement　to　me。

This　became　my　daily　routine　for　the　next　three　weeks。　As　I　gained　a　little　more　strength　the　man　would　be　standing　in　the　doorway；　smiling　and　nodding　as　I　would　pass　with　one　or　more　members　of　my　family。　On　the　fourth　week　I　was　allowed　to　solo　up　the　corridor。　As　I　passed　his　room；　there　was　my　faithful　friend　in　the　doorway。　He　was　a　slender　dark　plexioned　man。　I　stopped　a　minute　to　chat。　He　introduced　me　to　his　wife；　and　his　son　who　was　lying　listlessly　in　a　hospital　bed。　The　next　day　as　I　made　my　scheduled　walk；　he　came　out　and　walked　with　me　to　my　room。　He　explained　that　he　and　his　wife　had　brought　their　teenage　son　to　this　hospital　of　hope　from　Iran。　They　were　still　hoping；　but　things　were　not　going　well。　He　told　me　of　how　I　had　encouraged　him　on　that　first　dreadful　night’s　walking　tour　an