The needles cross, superimposed, collide.Linking a strand and again, they cross.

Two needles and a ball of wool gray.

Gray as the sky of the bad omens.

In her sixty two years Juana weaves, as all her life she did it.

When she is asked what she is weaving the response leaves without delay:

“A scarf for him, for when he wake up”

Beside Juana is Eusebio, her love of all life.

They lost the count, but they have been more than forty years together.

In the Intensive Care Unit Juana weaves beside him.

She doesn´t understand the numbers changing, or the curves that are drawn.She doesn´t understand the alarms sounding.

She doesn´t understand a half of the words said in the medical report.

She understands that Eusebio is very ill and the chances are few.

But she still weaves for him.

As Penelope, she clings to the hope of the return and the tissue.

She knows that every day that passes is more difficult the return of her beloved.

She is preparing for the worse, without leaving of wait for a miracle.

And she keeps weaving…for Eusebio.

From the first day of ICU admission she knew that this time was more serious.

All she asked for was letting her weaving beside his bed.

“A scarf for him, for when he wakes up”

And in a very low voice, she adds: “or he could wear it if he should go in this time”

Coordinator of the Experts Commite in Critical Care of the Argentinean Nursing Federation