May 9th, Saying Goodbye

     Today's prompt asked us to have our story take place in a hospital.  I have more recent memories of hospitals, but none as emotional as the one I'm sharing here.  Nineteen years later and I still remember it as if it had happened yesterday.  My dad didn't die in the hospital, but I ended the story as I did because of the prompt we were given.  We were allowed to take my dad home and that's where he spent his last hours.  

     I don't mean to offend others, but I do believe in God, and I know that he works in mysterious ways.  I had a night class that wouldn’t be getting out until after ten p.m.  When we went to the lab, the door was locked and our instructor didn’t have the key to get into the lab so he let us leave early.  I got home only to find out that Dad wasn’t expected to live long.

     We sat around with the TV on in the background as we talked.  Ralph Emery had a show on the Nashville network at that time, I think it was called Nashville Now.  John Conley was a guest on the show and he sang Amazing Grace.  My dad sat up in his hospital bed, his gaze intent on the screen as he told us to hush.  We sat quietly as the song was performed, not a dry eye in the house.  When the song ended, Dad laid back on the bed.  He died quietly a few hours later as I sat beside him holding his hand.

This one’s for you, Dad.

      It was late when she entered the hospital.  The lighting was low and visiting hours had ended long ago.  As she made her way to the elevator, she took several deep breaths.  If he was awake, she didn’t want to upset him by letting him know that she’d been crying. 

     Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the third floor.  The slight jar as the car started moving upward had her grasping the metal bar at the side.  She held her breath, listening as the motor turned the ropes that moved the car upward.  As the reached each floor a ding sounded.  The three lit up and the car jolted slightly before the doors swooshed open.

     Normally, the nurses didn’t let people in to see patients after visiting hours were over, but for the past three nights, they hadn’t said a word as she silently made her way to his room.  The looks on their faces as she walked past were etched into her memory.  She didn’t need to ask them why they were breaking the rules.  She knew. 

     She was able to open the door without making a sound.  The beeping from the machines told her that at least for now, he was still with her.  Slowly making her way over to the bed, she stopped to move one of the chairs closer to the bed, wincing at the sound the chair made as it scraped across the floor.

     The man lying in the bed was awake.  His mouth moved as if he were silently talking to someone visible only to him.  Her gaze went to his eyes and even in the dark she knew that there was something odd about them.  They were dull, distant.

     She reached out and took hold of the hand closest to her, trying not to react to the feeling she couldn’t shake.  Forcing down a sob, she leaned forward and whispered, “Sorry I’m late, Dad.  Class ran longer than it was supposed to.”

     He nodded his head but said nothing.  As if the effort to speak was beyond him at the moment.  His hand squeezed hers, though, and his eyes closed.

     Struggling to keep herself together, she sat there watching the machines.  The steady beep, although intrusive, was reassuring as well.  She wasn’t able to see his chest rise and fall, so the sounds of the machines told her that he was still with her.

     She sat quietly in the chair holding his hand. 

     The sound of the second hand as it made its way around the clock face was loud.  You could hear the click as each second passed.  At times, it seemed to blend in with the beeps of the heart monitor and the whoosh as the blood pressure cuff inflated. 

     Her eyes went to the machine that showed the heart beating.  Although the room was dark, light filtered in from the closed curtains as well as from the door that was slightly ajar.  She didn’t totally understand all of the machines, but she had enough knowledge to know that the squiggly lines that moved rapidly up and down weren’t a normal heartbeat.  She held her breath, praying for it to return to normal, then she was able to breathe once again.

     When her father’s doctor was paged and the words STAT were added, she tensed.  After several minutes she figured that it must have been for another patient and she relaxed once more.

     The clicking of heels on the floor neared and her gaze moved to the doorway.  A nurse popped in and she was able to see a smile on the woman’s face.  Her perfume was strong but the woman in the chair remained silent.  The nurse was always so nice to her and she didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

     The nurse spoke in a whisper as she said, “Would you like a pillow or blanket?”

     A shake of her head as she replied, “No, thank you.  I’m fine.”

     The nurse checked the readings on each of the machines and then turned back to the woman in the chair.  “He must know you’re here.  It’s the only time he really rests.”

     As much as she tries, the woman in the chair can’t conjure up a smile.  Instead she just nods, watching as the nurse leaves the room.  Leaning back so that her head rests on the back of the chair, she closes her eyes for a moment. 

     This is the third night that she’s sat at his bedside.  That first night, he’d seemed so exhausted.  She’d noticed that when she was sitting beside his bed, that he seemed to actually sleep for a while.  She’d left to grab something to eat and when she’d come back he’d been awake and seemed to be searching for something.  The moment she’d walked into the room, he seemed to settle, and he’d actually gone to sleep. 

     When the others had left, she had told them she was going to stay a bit longer—they’d been told he wasn’t sleeping well since he’d been admitted and since he was sleeping now, she wanted to let him sleep as long as he could. 

     She’d been surprised when the nurses hadn’t come to tell her to go home, but they didn’t seem to mind that she was there.  This hospital was known for being a stickler about visiting hours.  Now her suspicion that she was allowed in after hours because her father was able to sleep when she was here was confirmed. 

     She heard the sound of a cart being pushed down the hallway and her eyes opened briefly before closing once again.  Normally, she wasn’t a light sleeper, but it seemed like every sound that she heard was magnified so that it was if she were right next to it.  The beep of a call light, heels clicking on the floor, the knock on a door before it was opened, and the sound of someone flat-lining.   

     Her eyes opened instantly, moving to the machine that was monitoring her father as her heart raced.  She closed her eyes in relief as she realized it wasn’t him, and then sorrow for the family that had their loved one torn from them.  She could hear someone yelling “clear” and the sound it makes as the paddles are used to try and restart a heart, and then again, and again.  A few minutes later and she could hear the muted conversation as the doctor spoke with the family.  He was sorry, there was nothing more they could do.

     As the room grew brighter, she sat up, yawning as she stretched her cramped muscles.  Her gaze went to the clock and she saw that it was nearly eight a.m.  She’d have to get going soon if she was going to make it to class. 

     She looked over to where her hand was still clasping her father’s and hesitated for just a moment.  She knew that he’d slept well, the bruised look around his eyes had diminished and his color was a bit better.  

     Just then the door opened and her brother walked into the room.  She said, “He slept well.”

     Her brother nodded.  “I’ll sit with him now.”

     She leaned down and kissed the old man’s forehead.  “I’ll be back tonight, Dad.”

     As she passed her brother, their eyes met.  They knew, but neither wanted to voice the awful truth.  She readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and made her way into the hallway.  Light from the sun drew her to the windows.  The hospital was set up so that the end wall on this side was glass from ceiling to floor.  The patients and visitors were able to sit in chairs that looked out at what lay beyond the windows.  She stood looking down for several minutes, not sure what had drawn her to this spot. 

     Heart-wrenching sobs filled the air and she turned in the direction they were coming from.  A group of people stood outside of the room.  Many of them were crying as others tried to comfort them.  My heart went out to them, but my only thought was that at least Dad wasn’t the one in that room.  Everyone knew what that would mean.  For that was the room where they’d move patients when there was nothing more they could do for them.  The families were allowed in whenever they wanted because the doctors and nurses knew that the end was near.  They wanted to give the family as much time as possible with their loved one. 

     Her lip quivered as she made her way past the group, not daring to look at any of them.  She didn’t want to see the look in their eyes because then she’d know.  As she stepped into the elevator, an orderly pushing a hospital bed stepped out of the car beside her, the sound of the wheels going over the opening between the car and the hospital floor loud to her ears.  The doors slid shut and she managed to hold it together until she’d stepped outside the hospital.  The sound of a waterfall drew her over to the side of the hospital.  She stood there for several minutes before she went on with the rest of her day.

     A quick trip home to shower and change, and then she needed to go into work.  She had another night class and after that, she was on her way back to the hospital.  She’d gotten a phone call telling her that her father was in a new room, so as she got off on the third floor, she followed the signs till she came to the right room.  Her heart sank as she stood there for a couple minutes just looking at the number on the wall.  Already her heart was breaking. 

     Straightening to her full height, she silently opened the door and knew.  She walked over to where her father lay in the bed, his eyes were open but he didn’t seem to be taking in the conversation around him.  Her mom, three sisters, and her brother were all there.  Her father’s mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.  It was as if he were talking to someone who wasn’t there.  He turned in her direction and that’s when she knew it wouldn’t be long.  She saw it in his eyes.  She could smell it in the very air around her.  The look and smell of death.