Short Story Part I

A ray of sunlight shown through a tiny window within the small wooden shed, making visible the thick air of dust that was encased within the dwelling. It was noon-ish, when she heard a small rasp upon her wooden door. It was almost indiscernible that it wouldn't have been unusual if she hadn't heard it at all. It's been awhile since she heard anything besides the sound of her cane tapping against the wooden floor as she walked. Slowly she opened her door, it creaking from years of disuse. The air that flowed in was refreshing, almost bringing new life into her home. It was so refreshing, it made the old lady smile. Through the doorway, she saw a little boy standing right in front of her with open arms, beaming like a ray of sunshine.

"Who is this little stranger", she thought, "who stands before me, greeting me as if he knew me from years long past." She welcomed him in, and reluctantly accepted the hug that he was so eager to give. In his small arms, she felt warm. She sensed a familiarity in his embrace or so she thought. It had been years, maybe in another lifetime that she had let someone near her. It had been too long she thought as her memory failed her.

The little boy was just smiling, saying nothing at all, while the old lady questioned him.

"Who are you?", "Where have you come from?", "Where are your parents?"

She eventually got tired of asking, the boy just smiled without answering. She just welcomed the company that he was supplying. The little boy came day after day, and soon it would be a month since he first arrived at her doorsteps. She watched him play, and he would listen to her without uttering a single word.

The old lady would prepare for his arrival each day by making treats for him to eat. She felt like a young girl again; albeit strange, feeling so from the attentions of a very young boy. Day after day, she would watch him being very animated in every movement he made. His curly thick dark hair and expressive eyes were etched into her mind. He would grow up to break hearts one day, she thought.

Autumn came, three months after the little boy started visiting her. It was late in the afternoon. The sun was beginning to set early, casting beautiful red and yellow rays across the sky. But the old lady was too busy thinking of him to appreciate the beauty around her. He usually came around noon, it was always noon she thought. It didn't seem like he was going to come at all today. Her spirits began to dampen as she raked the leaves that covered the ground around her home. She thought that this year is the first time I've been out of my house in years. She would usually let the leaves around her home gather every year, but this year she wanted to clear it for the little boy. Tears were at the edge of her lower lids, but she wouldn't let them flow. She vowed long ago not to shed any more tears.

"How are you?"

The old lady was startled. She hadn't heard anyone speak, since she moved out into the forest many years ago. The voice was almost angelic - soft and sweet. She did not recognize it, but it spoke with familiarity, as it repeated the same question once again.

"How are you?"

She turned to face the voice, only to discover it was the little boy. She was happy he was there, but she would not let it be shown. She turned her back against him and kept sweeping. She hid her face as it began to wrinkle from her uncontrollable smile. A feeling of joy overwhelmed her, not only because he was there, but also because she had heard him speak for the first time.

"I'm okay. But it's late, you should go home", she callously tried to say.

But deep in her heart, she wanted him to stay. She'd forgotten how lonely the nights were without any company. He had reminded her of what she had forgotten. He had reminded of her many things she had forgotten, many of which came flooding back during the months she had grown to know him. She had spent her days watching the little boy play, and also telling him stories of her past.

The little boy nodded and waved to her, as he departed with a big smile. She almost didn't notice that he left, for she was overwhelmed with hearing his voice for the first time. It would be days before the little boy would visit her again.

Thank You...

"You look really nice today, dear", an unsolicited remark by my patient to his wife as she walks into his room. His face softens up and smiles, as his eyes focus on her. They've been married 40-something years, he told me. Although he was the one hospitalized, he never stopped worrying about her, making sure she was eating and taking care of herself. His wife stayed over at night. She sat in a chair while he laid in his bed, holding hands during the night while they slept.

A relationship I could only hope for. I enjoyed the three consecutive days I had taking care of this patient, and witnessing the interactions between him and his wife. The warmth and love I felt from this couple and their family made me momentarily forget my troubles.

As I was leaving for the day with a couple of days off from work awaiting me, my patient's wife came up to me and gave me a warm hug. And here, I was about to leave without saying goodbye. She thanked me, and yet, I should have been the one to thank them.

Happy 47th

Yesterday, one of our patients renewed his wedding vows with his wife after 47years of marriage. I took time out of my busy day to witness this happy event in his hospital room. It brought tears to my eyes, happy tears.

My co-workers of course teased me. Bastards.

Words never spoken

"...you pushed me away"

That was the last thing you told me.

I guess I did, and I dreamed many times that I would. But still I wish I didn't.

Sorry.

I really miss you, my friend. But, you'll never see or hear this.

Two down, two more to go

Nauseous from the pills that I've been taking for the last two weeks, I decided to take a bath to somehow alleviate the discomfort I've been feeling. The waves of nausea came like the ebb and flow of tides, the bath water seemed to exacerbate it as I imagined myself in the ocean bobbing up and down.

I emptied the tub, as I laid in it, concentrating on the sound of the water swirling down the drain. I needed something to divert my attention away from the nausea. I maneuvered the handles with my feet to turn on the shower, I didn't have the strength or energy to sit up. I felt dead, but I welcomed the shower water coming from above. Its rhythm not matching my nausea at all.

I imagined myself a corpse lying in the rain. The beads of water raining down on my torso felt nice. What felt even better was the outer ring of shower water hitting against my face. It felt cooler. My mind was blank, I focused my attention to how the beads hit my lips. It felt nice, sensual. Minutes passed, I was no longer the dying corpse I felt that I was a while ago. Especially as I awoke from my trance, choking on the water that slowly accumulated in my mouth.

I'm alive and it could be worse, I need to make the best of it. I felt better temporarily. Two more weeks of hell, I can only hope. But if my liver enzymes are elevated, a worse hell will begin.

Not another work day...

I came into work and looked toward the assignment board and smiled as I saw who my patient was.

"I told them not to give you him...", the ward clerk said.

Confused, I said, "What?" and as they started telling me what happened, I was already walking out toward his room.

"See you Tuesday", he said. I waved back, "Yep, see you Tuesday."

That was the last time I saw him alive - always smiling, always warm. He and his wife were sad that I was off for the next three days. His wife told me that he liked me very much. He said he liked me as his nurse because I cared for him. I thought it was an odd thing to say considering other nurses have cared for him and I only had him back for 2 days since the first time I cared for him.

"I feel anxious and a little scared", he told me a month earlier about the thought of being intubated.

He remembered me from the one time I had him a month ago before he was intubated. I smiled.

"I want everything to stop."

At a meeting with the physicians and family, he told them that he wanted the tube-feeding to stop the following week. My eyes watered and a tear rolled down my face as he spoke. I thought I saw him glance my way temporarily, and then he resumed speaking. Did he notice? I hoped not.

"Be strong, be realistic, but be hopeful at the same time", I told him. He smiled.

He decided on Monday to also remove the oxygen. He decided right after one of his favorite shows, he wanted it done. He removed it with his own two hands. He went peacefully throughout the night they said. There was always someone at his bedside.

His wife didn't know of his decision. I didn't know. I only knew of the tube-feeding. He didn't want his wife to be sad.

Needless to say, I cried.

I didn't know if he could hear. I bent down to whisper in his ear to say my last goodbye. His breaths were shallow and erratic, pulses barely palpable. A few minutes later, he was pronounced dead.

"I told them not to give you him..." she repeated. I said, "No, it's okay."

I cried as I did my post-mortem care. I removed a rubber ID band he wore on his right wrist that indicated he had a smart port and kept it. It was rubbish to everyone, but to me, it was something more. I wore it that day and I smiled each time I saw it.

I'll always remember you.

The Drugs Don't Work

I love both this version and Ben Harper's.