I have lived
my life; I am now an 85 year old man. I have raised two beautiful children,
buried my wife and have watched my babies have babies. My life has been full of
joy and memories that as a young child I never imagined. But now my body refuses to
keep up, it has shut down completely. I have the cancer. They have locked me in
a hospital tied up to machines that screech at all hours of the night. My
oldest son visits me in the early morning before his shift; he wears a long white
coat and personally checks on me. Thank god we took that second mortgage to pay
for his fancy doctor school. Who knows who would be taking care of me if we hadn’t.
Margaret do you hear me? What’s it like up there?
Can you see the kids? I have been on my own for almost 9 years now. I am ready to move on to
whatever god has planned for me now.
“Dad, have you
given any more thought to treatment?”
“Johnny, son,
you know I don’t want any dang treatment. I am an old dying man, just let me
join my wife!”
“I am not just
going to let you die.” My son is exhausted with arguing with me, it’s the same thing
every morning. He double checks the machines making quite a racket before
walking out of the room. His feet hit the linoleum harder than necessary but it’s
better than the light squeaking I usually hear from the staff.
I lay waiting for
the female nurse with a voice that distinctly resembles a mouse to come in offering me
something to eat and adjusting my pillows, she'll continue to ask if I am warm enough or need
anything. Although she speaks so quickly its makes my head spin and I never have time to
respond. I am mentally preparing myself for this as I stare at the ceiling, don’t worry Margaret I am coming for you
soon.
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