Hospital
it's a humid afternoon, and i'm in the workshop; the viscous pump i'm designing is frustrating, as there are a lot of grooves to be milled. my cellphone goes off in my jeans, wiping my sweaty brow i answer. i hear your voice, and the word 'hospital'. almost in slow motion, i drop everything and take off running. a lab-tech yells out at me as i swing past him, making him drop the toolbox he's carrying, "sorry" i shout, already out of the big double doors of the workshop.
i run up to the empty nurse's station in emergency, gasping desperately i flip through the record book and see your name and the room number. ward 6. still running, i come flying into the room. your pale, pretty face manages a weak smile. all i can see is a jumble of tubes and wires. i'm confused, tense, worried, but i have to act strong here, especially when i see your face. you look scared, little worry-lines running across your brow, your lips drawn together in a tight line, as every breath you take is a laboured achievement. your girlfriends sitting around look equally worried. the doctor finishes his stethoscope examination, and gestures to me to see him outside. he tells me it's seasonal, usually not a big thing, but only that you have had a pretty bad attack, and breathing will be a bit tough for the next few days. if there is no change in the next few days, then surgery might be required. this is devastating. i assure him that i'll be here, and you'll get better. you need bed-rest he says, little does he know the kind of active, 100 mph life you lead!!
sitting here beside you, i read you short stories from Roald Dahl's 'Tales Of The Unexpected', doing my best to try make you smile, making comic impressions. we look out of the open windows, at the fading light outside. nature is at it's best early in the morning, and late in the evening. your head is on my shoulder, while i gently rub your back, trying to make breathing a little easier for you. you laugh again as two birds fly past the window, twittering away to glory! the sun finally sets, and all is quiet outside; all is quiet inside the hospital too. occasionally, a nurse walks past, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor of the corridor. this is probably the first time we have had so much peace and quiet in our lives for the last month or so. mentally i berate myself for all the things we should have done and seen. never again will i postpone what we have today, for who knows if we shall have it tomorrow?
i hear you calling out my name in a little voice, i wake up with a jolt. all is dark, and just a little blue glow from the nightlamp illuminates the rest of the room. your lips are dry, and throat rasps with each breath you take. the glass of water is already in my hand before you even ask for it. you drink in little gulps, letting every sip of it swirl around in your mouth. i kiss you on your forehead, and pull the chair closer. you don't feel like sleeping, and ask me to read to you again, you like it when i do that. so there i start, rambling on and on, and when i look up after some time, your eyes are shut, your breathing much more peaceful and a little smile playing on your lips. your hand still in mine, i lay my weary head on the bed.
i'm woken by a gentle kiss on my upturned cheek. startled, i jump up to see you standing beside the bed, already dressed! the doctor's checked, and everything's normal again. you can leave the hospital, but you should still rest. your bubbly laughter fills the room along with the morning light. even the pale blue walls seem less foreboding than when we'd come in yesterday. you're a fighter honey, and i love that about you! we go out the door of the hospital, and step out into the crisp morning air, looking up into the blue sky with white wisps stringing across it. it's a new day, and we take new steps into the world ahead of us, together.
i run up to the empty nurse's station in emergency, gasping desperately i flip through the record book and see your name and the room number. ward 6. still running, i come flying into the room. your pale, pretty face manages a weak smile. all i can see is a jumble of tubes and wires. i'm confused, tense, worried, but i have to act strong here, especially when i see your face. you look scared, little worry-lines running across your brow, your lips drawn together in a tight line, as every breath you take is a laboured achievement. your girlfriends sitting around look equally worried. the doctor finishes his stethoscope examination, and gestures to me to see him outside. he tells me it's seasonal, usually not a big thing, but only that you have had a pretty bad attack, and breathing will be a bit tough for the next few days. if there is no change in the next few days, then surgery might be required. this is devastating. i assure him that i'll be here, and you'll get better. you need bed-rest he says, little does he know the kind of active, 100 mph life you lead!!
sitting here beside you, i read you short stories from Roald Dahl's 'Tales Of The Unexpected', doing my best to try make you smile, making comic impressions. we look out of the open windows, at the fading light outside. nature is at it's best early in the morning, and late in the evening. your head is on my shoulder, while i gently rub your back, trying to make breathing a little easier for you. you laugh again as two birds fly past the window, twittering away to glory! the sun finally sets, and all is quiet outside; all is quiet inside the hospital too. occasionally, a nurse walks past, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor of the corridor. this is probably the first time we have had so much peace and quiet in our lives for the last month or so. mentally i berate myself for all the things we should have done and seen. never again will i postpone what we have today, for who knows if we shall have it tomorrow?
i hear you calling out my name in a little voice, i wake up with a jolt. all is dark, and just a little blue glow from the nightlamp illuminates the rest of the room. your lips are dry, and throat rasps with each breath you take. the glass of water is already in my hand before you even ask for it. you drink in little gulps, letting every sip of it swirl around in your mouth. i kiss you on your forehead, and pull the chair closer. you don't feel like sleeping, and ask me to read to you again, you like it when i do that. so there i start, rambling on and on, and when i look up after some time, your eyes are shut, your breathing much more peaceful and a little smile playing on your lips. your hand still in mine, i lay my weary head on the bed.
i'm woken by a gentle kiss on my upturned cheek. startled, i jump up to see you standing beside the bed, already dressed! the doctor's checked, and everything's normal again. you can leave the hospital, but you should still rest. your bubbly laughter fills the room along with the morning light. even the pale blue walls seem less foreboding than when we'd come in yesterday. you're a fighter honey, and i love that about you! we go out the door of the hospital, and step out into the crisp morning air, looking up into the blue sky with white wisps stringing across it. it's a new day, and we take new steps into the world ahead of us, together.
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