Sequel: Cure ›
Sickness
White
All is calm.
It is late at night, and I sit in the hospital, waiting. It is silent. Everything is white. The walls, the chairs, the floor. And all appears calm.
In truth, nothing is calm. All is chaos. In fact, all happens to be the one family I care about most. And their life is nothing but chaotic right now. I try to remain calm. I hum Bach quietly with my hands folded in my lap. Bach is uplifting. It is always quick, pretty, and happy. I hope my mood will rise into the happiness that is Bach.
A woman sits next to me. I know her well. Her eyes are solemn and tearful. Every time I look at her, I can’t help reaching over to hold her hand. She has this look on her face. She has hope, but she is so scared. She’s frightened and weak. I look at her and smile meekly. She grasps my fingers and squeezes. She sighs. Oh, don’t do that to me. Don’t you see how much we both are aching inside? Don’t sigh. Don’t give up yet.
Something happens. Somebody says something. We both leave our chairs and walk. I don’t know where we are going. I let my body take me. My mind is disconnected.
We walk into a room. Everything is white. The sheets, the bed, the walls, the floor, the windows, everything. There is someone lying in the white bed. I know her well. She does not move. Looking at her makes my knees buckle.
“Oh, Rose…” I whisper.
The woman standing next to me begins to cry. She clutches on to every part of my body and cries. I don’t blame her at all. She needs someone to hold her. I will hold her. Her flesh and blood lies on that white bed. She is bruised, inside and out. She is the strongest human I know.
A machine sits next to her. I do not know what this machine does. I have seen one before, but I have no recollection of being told its purpose. A man in a white coat walks up to us. He starts to talk to me and the girl’s mother, who is the woman desperately clinging to me with her life, and that of her daughter’s. I do not fully understand what the doctor is trying to tell us. The woman nods her head repeatedly because she is up to date with hospital talk. I am not. I only understand a few phrases. Two sentences hit me like a bullet to the gut, and kill me slowly.
“She’s brain dead. We could keep her alive, but the machine would breathe for her, and she’d be in more pain than she ever has been.”
I know what he is saying. Rose is alive, but not in a way that would make her ever be the same. She would not be able to do anything. Her soul is gone. It is lost. The doctor asks if we would like to keep her alive. I look at Rose’s mother.
“No. Please, just take my daughter out of whatever pain she is feeling. First, let us say goodbye. John, would you give me a few minutes?”
“Of course. I let myself out of the room, and close the door. I lean up against the wall. I hear panting coming from the end of the hall. A tall teenage boy jogs up to me. He brushes his blonde hair out of his face. We stand facing each other silently. I tell him what happened.
Jack puts his hand up to his face to hide his expression, though I know exactly how he feels. I put my arm around his shoulder. I see something wet slide down his check. I had doubted Jack and Rose’s love before, but now I think differently.
I have always wondered what death was like. Who hasn’t? I wondered if you were sucked black for eternity, or if you were welcomed by white. I have never had a strong stance.
Knowing Rose, and how much love she put into her life, despite her sickness, I now know her fate.
She is sure to be welcomed by the white, and nothing that ever stopped her from living in her life can stop her from living in death. This is her chance to start over, and for this, I am happy. Though I will never listen to her play viola again, her voice, or see her smile, I know that somewhere she is, and that she is happy.
I shed my ideas upon her mother and Jack. They look at me for a moment, and then look at Rose’s body. There is a light in both of there eyes that I have never seen before. I open my arms, and we embrace. We embrace for ourselves.
We embrace for Rose.
It is late at night, and I sit in the hospital, waiting. It is silent. Everything is white. The walls, the chairs, the floor. And all appears calm.
In truth, nothing is calm. All is chaos. In fact, all happens to be the one family I care about most. And their life is nothing but chaotic right now. I try to remain calm. I hum Bach quietly with my hands folded in my lap. Bach is uplifting. It is always quick, pretty, and happy. I hope my mood will rise into the happiness that is Bach.
A woman sits next to me. I know her well. Her eyes are solemn and tearful. Every time I look at her, I can’t help reaching over to hold her hand. She has this look on her face. She has hope, but she is so scared. She’s frightened and weak. I look at her and smile meekly. She grasps my fingers and squeezes. She sighs. Oh, don’t do that to me. Don’t you see how much we both are aching inside? Don’t sigh. Don’t give up yet.
Something happens. Somebody says something. We both leave our chairs and walk. I don’t know where we are going. I let my body take me. My mind is disconnected.
We walk into a room. Everything is white. The sheets, the bed, the walls, the floor, the windows, everything. There is someone lying in the white bed. I know her well. She does not move. Looking at her makes my knees buckle.
“Oh, Rose…” I whisper.
The woman standing next to me begins to cry. She clutches on to every part of my body and cries. I don’t blame her at all. She needs someone to hold her. I will hold her. Her flesh and blood lies on that white bed. She is bruised, inside and out. She is the strongest human I know.
A machine sits next to her. I do not know what this machine does. I have seen one before, but I have no recollection of being told its purpose. A man in a white coat walks up to us. He starts to talk to me and the girl’s mother, who is the woman desperately clinging to me with her life, and that of her daughter’s. I do not fully understand what the doctor is trying to tell us. The woman nods her head repeatedly because she is up to date with hospital talk. I am not. I only understand a few phrases. Two sentences hit me like a bullet to the gut, and kill me slowly.
“She’s brain dead. We could keep her alive, but the machine would breathe for her, and she’d be in more pain than she ever has been.”
I know what he is saying. Rose is alive, but not in a way that would make her ever be the same. She would not be able to do anything. Her soul is gone. It is lost. The doctor asks if we would like to keep her alive. I look at Rose’s mother.
“No. Please, just take my daughter out of whatever pain she is feeling. First, let us say goodbye. John, would you give me a few minutes?”
“Of course. I let myself out of the room, and close the door. I lean up against the wall. I hear panting coming from the end of the hall. A tall teenage boy jogs up to me. He brushes his blonde hair out of his face. We stand facing each other silently. I tell him what happened.
Jack puts his hand up to his face to hide his expression, though I know exactly how he feels. I put my arm around his shoulder. I see something wet slide down his check. I had doubted Jack and Rose’s love before, but now I think differently.
I have always wondered what death was like. Who hasn’t? I wondered if you were sucked black for eternity, or if you were welcomed by white. I have never had a strong stance.
Knowing Rose, and how much love she put into her life, despite her sickness, I now know her fate.
She is sure to be welcomed by the white, and nothing that ever stopped her from living in her life can stop her from living in death. This is her chance to start over, and for this, I am happy. Though I will never listen to her play viola again, her voice, or see her smile, I know that somewhere she is, and that she is happy.
I shed my ideas upon her mother and Jack. They look at me for a moment, and then look at Rose’s body. There is a light in both of there eyes that I have never seen before. I open my arms, and we embrace. We embrace for ourselves.
We embrace for Rose.