The visitor

She lies in her hospital bed, surrounded by white walls, white sheets and various machines beeping around her. Oblivious of her surroundings, she mostly sleeps the day away. A long scar with 23 staples runs along the right side of her head, a lasting memento of her ischemic stroke and the craniotomy that followed. A feeding tube enters her right nare and leads into her stomach.  She does not respond to voice, never utters a word, and she opens her eyes periodically but stares past you.

Questions run through my mind, "What is she looking at? Who is she waiting for?" But I smile knowing the answer.

It never fails, exactly at 10:00 each day, her visitor comes. You could say her knight in shining armor visiting his sleeping beauty. He stares at her like it was love at first sight. His face softens as he enters the room, his smile and gaze as he looks at her melts even my heart away. He does not see her half bald head, nor her scar, nor her disheveled long white hair that hangs almost as lifeless as she does on the other half of her head. He calls her name as he has done for the past month she's been admitted to the hospital and as he has done his whole life with her. Sixty-five years to be exact.

I feel like a voyeur, but not in the sordid kind of way, as I watch the two interact without them noticing. I got lost in their world for a moment, not noticing until a while later when a wet tear upon my cheek awoken me from the dream I was watching. In that dream, I was her, lying in that bed.

Although she wasn't my patient this day, I walk in to see how she was doing, and also how he was. I greet him with my usual, "Hej, svenska pojke." We talked, it was short and sweet. He was always smiling and even joking.

He tells me "I asked the doctor if her memory will be intact when she recovers, and he tells me it should be since it hadn't affected that part of the brain. I said darn, I was hoping she wouldn't remember the bad times." I give him a soft squeeze on the shoulder and tell him, "Even the bad times are good memories." He nods and smiles, as I leave the room.

I look to my co-worker and say "that's what I wish for." Someone to be by my side even during the most hopeless times, when it may seem I may not come out alive. Someone to wipe my drool, when I'm gushing out a river. Someone to come and play my favorite music, although it may seem I'm deaf to the world. Someone to talk to me, to fill my silent lonely frustrating moments with words of encouragement. To know someone's there in the long haul, who never gives up hope in me.

The clock turns 15:00, a small frown forms around my mouth. It's time for my knight, no ...her knight in shining armor to depart. A screwed up Cinderella story - not the girl, but the guy, not midnight, but 15:00. But still a hope for a happy ending.

He comes up to me, says a small goodbye and thank you. He asks me if I'll be back tomorrow. With a smile, I say "no, but see you on Wednesday". As he leaves, I turn to face her room and whisper reassuringly to her from far away "he'll be back.", although deep within their souls they probably never ever parted.