My footsteps echoed as I eased my way down the hall, mumbling
room numbers to myself while searching for 634. It hurt to make eye contact
with the pain and confusion on the faces of men and women lying in the rooms.
As I approached a new room, I vowed not to look directly at their face, but the
promise was always broken. Somehow, I felt their pain, but I was helpless.
I stopped when 634 finally appeared. The door was closed. I swallowed hard before gently knocking and slowly opening it. There was the man to the left, the small body draped in white blankets with the gentle humming of the machines to his left and the occasional beep.
The door remained ajar to avoid the sound of closing, so his sleep was undisturbed. I remained standing at the foot of the bed, watching and counting the drips of the IV. The emotions washed over me, the sympathy battling the anger which battled the disappointment. It was hard to imagine the meek old man lying in front of me causing so much pain, but history was hard to ignore - especially personal history. The disappointment led to guilt as I admitted to nobody, other than myself, that I would have preferred a visit to the morgue.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" The weak, raspy voice destroyed the quiet vigil. The green eyes, the only person in the whole family with such eyes, stared at me.
"I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd say hi." I decided not to elaborate on my plan, practiced in the car on the way to the hospital, of identifying the - his - body and the few telephone calls to let others know the reign of terror was over. Yeah, terror may be a bit over the top, but you get the point.
"Oh." The body didn't move, but the head moved slightly to the right to get a better look. I took a few steps to the bed and met his gaze. Suddenly, I wondered if he could actually move the body.
"Yeah, well, they called me to tell me about it, so I thought I'd check on you." I examined the monitor near the bed while talking, wondering what values were good and, more importantly, bad. I did know that a horizontal line in the heartbeat window was preferred. I wondered if I could fake a cry or anything close if the line suddenly appeared.
"Oh, just another accident, I'll be okay in a few days." The sentence was slowly revealed through a series of coughs. I offered water, but he declined.
"In a few days? Shit, you had another fucking heart attack. This wasn't an accident. The only accident is you still being able to talk - or even breathe!" The emotions were hard to contain as his carefree attitude overwhelmed me. No doubt, his condition would be worse than before, there was no way he could care for himself, so what would happen?
"You were always so dramatic, just like your mother, but the doctor told me I was lucky, so maybe you have a point." A feeble grin stretched across his face but quickly disappeared as a nurse entered.
I stepped back and leaned against the wall as the nurse completed her checklist. I rubbed my eyes while wondering when this would ever end. I felt judgment as the nurse's eyes met mine; she seemed to know my thoughts. I wanted to pull her aside and fill in the details, the past, so she could be on my side. At this point, I wanted somebody on my side, and I wanted him on the other side.
I stopped when 634 finally appeared. The door was closed. I swallowed hard before gently knocking and slowly opening it. There was the man to the left, the small body draped in white blankets with the gentle humming of the machines to his left and the occasional beep.
The door remained ajar to avoid the sound of closing, so his sleep was undisturbed. I remained standing at the foot of the bed, watching and counting the drips of the IV. The emotions washed over me, the sympathy battling the anger which battled the disappointment. It was hard to imagine the meek old man lying in front of me causing so much pain, but history was hard to ignore - especially personal history. The disappointment led to guilt as I admitted to nobody, other than myself, that I would have preferred a visit to the morgue.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" The weak, raspy voice destroyed the quiet vigil. The green eyes, the only person in the whole family with such eyes, stared at me.
"I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd say hi." I decided not to elaborate on my plan, practiced in the car on the way to the hospital, of identifying the - his - body and the few telephone calls to let others know the reign of terror was over. Yeah, terror may be a bit over the top, but you get the point.
"Oh." The body didn't move, but the head moved slightly to the right to get a better look. I took a few steps to the bed and met his gaze. Suddenly, I wondered if he could actually move the body.
"Yeah, well, they called me to tell me about it, so I thought I'd check on you." I examined the monitor near the bed while talking, wondering what values were good and, more importantly, bad. I did know that a horizontal line in the heartbeat window was preferred. I wondered if I could fake a cry or anything close if the line suddenly appeared.
"Oh, just another accident, I'll be okay in a few days." The sentence was slowly revealed through a series of coughs. I offered water, but he declined.
"In a few days? Shit, you had another fucking heart attack. This wasn't an accident. The only accident is you still being able to talk - or even breathe!" The emotions were hard to contain as his carefree attitude overwhelmed me. No doubt, his condition would be worse than before, there was no way he could care for himself, so what would happen?
"You were always so dramatic, just like your mother, but the doctor told me I was lucky, so maybe you have a point." A feeble grin stretched across his face but quickly disappeared as a nurse entered.
I stepped back and leaned against the wall as the nurse completed her checklist. I rubbed my eyes while wondering when this would ever end. I felt judgment as the nurse's eyes met mine; she seemed to know my thoughts. I wanted to pull her aside and fill in the details, the past, so she could be on my side. At this point, I wanted somebody on my side, and I wanted him on the other side.
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