It couldn’t be dawn yet, there was not enough light. I woke up with the sound of a truly melodic voice, however, the sound didn’t match the message it was giving.
“Hello son, I’m Dr. Cullen. I need to draw blood to see how far has the disease progressed, so please would you mind giving me your arm?” – Ugh needles. I unwillingly presented my arm to the cordial doctor. He will make me better I kept thinking.
After he was done he did a quick work up to make sure I had nothing broken or too badly bruised, he had explain that sometimes people would faint and hit the ground pretty harshly. The disease would mask the pain of the fall and they’d forget to tell him what had happened. A guy had died of internal bleeding due to that. That was not reassuring at all.
“You’ll be okay son there’s nothing broken. I’ll send the nurse with the meds in just a bit. You can go back to sleep she’ll wake you to give you the shot.”-Great, more needles. This cannot get any worse.
The voice that spoke during the night belonged to the guy who was settled in the cot to my right. “So...you just arrived eh?”-He asked
“Last night Sir.”-I mumbled, not particularly interested in maintaining the conversation. However, my desire was not the same as the guy’s.
“I’m Patrick. I got here one week ago, roughly the same time as Sid...Uh, the previous owner of that bed. I guess my time will come shortly.”- I flinched, obviously the cot had emptied due to its previous owner’s death, and yet such thought had never crossed my mind, well until it was presented to me by uhm….Patrick.
“Uhm..I’m Edward. My mother is in the other ward. My father died a month ago. Me and my mother only started developing symptoms four night ago.” I tried to answer all his future questions at once so I wouldn’t have to draw any more oxygen than necessary to breathe. I certainly did not felt the urge to painfully maintain a conversation however, that might be my last so I guess I better take the advantage of it. I started paying more attention to Patrick. He was probably in his twenties, still the disease made him look older. It made all of us so. He had red hair and pitch black eyes and as me, he had only a white gown on, bare feet and the look as if he hadn’t bathed in too long. As painful as this conversation was for him he kept a smile, masking how hard it was for him to draw every breath. I felt as if I owed him the same effort.
Patrick and I got to know each other in the course of three days. He had told me of his girlfriend, showed me a picture of a beautiful brunette, and then came the news I was expecting.
“She died three months ago. You know. It still seems like yesterday; we were holding hands and making plans for our engagement party. She wanted a big party with all her friends and family. She was so nice to everyone we knew, wanted to invite the entire town. Sorry mate I’m getting sentimental, it’s just this place messes with your view of the world. You know. One minute your life is all planned ahead and the next you’re carrying your soon to be bride’s coffin to the grave. I tell you mate if it weren’t for her family I’d have jump in. You know. To the grave but they grabbed me and gave me all this support. I was going nuts without her. Until the symptoms hit and I was happy to be dying. Felt like I’d join her soon. Oh what am I saying it’s too early in the morning to be talking about death. Sorry mate I just wish I had someone to tell my story. You know. So I wouldn’t feel like it was all to waste.”- And with that I inhaled and replied.
“I’m not sure I’ll live much longer than you but if I do I vow to tell your story to whoever wishes to hear it. It will be a tale of a brave man that even in the face of death did not care for his own sake and thought only of his beloved.”
“Thanks mate but we look like little girls talking about their feelings and stuff.”- He giggled and I could not help feeling happy in that God forsaken place, with all the pain and discomfort, came a shred of hope. Hope that Patrick and I would live to tell our tales. Live to find love, for him again for me for the very first time. And then it was all washed away as Patrick took in his last excruciating breath.
I cried for a friend, for a companion in such awful conditions, for another soul lost in the hands of an invisible threat. For that kind you cannot take your revenge and so all you can do is cry. However I cried mostly because I’d soon be meeting the same faith.
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