In all my years at Little Mary’s hospital, I’ve
witnessed numerous tragedies and sparse miracles. I have seen patients with
guaranteed premature death certificates, walk out of here with springs for
heels. I have also see those, fresh as a rose, fall prey to the night visitor.
As doctors we do not create miracles, we witness them. Despite not being
directly acquainted with the night visitor, I have seen its magic more than
enough. And it leaves me breathless, every time.
It was 1999 and I was in my 1st year
of training. My first practical exam was simple – to assist a terminally ill
patient with Euthanasia. All I had to do was pull some chords and it would be
over. The moment I entered the room, my eyes lay on the crippled figure on the
bed lying motionless – ready to die. His pale, crackled skin looked as if it
could hold on no longer. His body was rigid and bent at odd angles. His eyes
were the color of clouds on a rainy day, all the light seemed to have drained
out. He caught my gaze and I knew then, he had given up completely.
My patient, Mr. Rogers, was connected to
various different machines, each performing functions his body could not. I
realized then, he was a grotesque mixture of technology, prolonging a life that
doesn’t want to live. He couldn’t do the things I could – to take a stroll in
the park, or have a picnic under the stars. It wasn’t a surprise that he chose
to quit breathing. His soul had departed long before he had.
A small chair was placed in between Mr. Roger’s
bed and the machine that showed his heart rate. I sat down and my patient
looked at me, the wrinkles in his eyes spoke the stories he couldn’t tell. He
expected me to remove his oxygen mask or cut his food supply. Instead, I took
his freezing fragile hand in mine, gripped it tight and smiled. I began to describe the beautiful scenery
outside his window – how the beams of light played with the cotton clouds, how
the lush green field enveloped the earth; I figured it had been a while since
he’d even heard of the world existing beyond the confines of the hospital. A
weak smile played on his lips and for the first time in a while, his body
relaxed and a calming sensation washed over him.
Time elapsed like spilling water and before I
knew it, it was midnight. Mr. Rogers had listened to all my simple stories as
if they were witchcraft. At one point I felt his hand slipping away from mine,
his eyes slowly closing before sealing shut altogether. I looked at him in
disbelief and immediately checked the heart rate machine. It displayed a
straight line. I knew at that moment, the night visitor had paid him a visit.
It had finally granted Mr. Rogers what he had been seeking – eternal peace.
~ Noyolee
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