Thoughts of a Dying Man

A man. A hospital. A life slipping away.
A collection of thoughts from a dying man.

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5. .

Another few days have passed and I'm starting to have difficulty getting this down. I'm finding that my hands are starting to shake something rotten compared to usual and I've not had any visitors since my friend Billy. My daughter was meant to be coming up from London yesterday but she was needed in an important business meeting. I don't mind, after all her life is just beginning and mine is coming to an end. I've had a happy life, I have wanted for nothing and I have had some good experiences. i don't want to be a bother to anyone. 

Although when you're in a state like mine you can't help but feel that you are. I need assistance to do everything from going to the toilet to eating meals. I tell the nurses time and time again that I don't want them to waste their energy on me but they always do. If there's one thing that annoys me even slightly about my condition is that I cannot do things for myself anymore. I am dependent upon so many other people to do things for me.

But I shan't complain. What can you do, eh? 

I pause for a minute and look out from my door again. A woman in an elegant wedding gown has just been wheeled in on a stretcher. I realize that she has just been married. Something is wrong, however. Her dress is ripped in places and there's blood staining the white material of the gown. The paramedics have stopped just outside and are having a heated discussion about what I assume to be is her welfare. Something about 'ICU' and 'theater'. Whatever it is they certainly don't agree.

From a distance I can see the groom. He is also bleeding and his suit is torn. He is running down the corridor and the tears falling from his cheeks are landing on his suit. He must have been crying for a while as there is a visible patch of liquid from where his tears have been falling. He stops, only for a second, as he sees his bride lay there on the stretcher. In his eyes I can see the pain and turmoil that he is experiencing at the sight of his wife. In the few moments that he has stopped some doctors have managed to reach him and are now holding him back from running any further. He struggles against their grip and one of them eventually succumbs to the force that this man is giving. The second doctor is pushed to the ground and the man does not release his gaze from the poor woman on the stretcher. 

He reaches her and the top half of his body collapses onto the top half of her frail frame. He cannot move her head, for she is in a neck brace, but he picks up a lock of her golden hair and starts to stroke it. He gently moves his fingers across her lifeless face and he is no longer hysterical. I can see that his mouth is moving, presumably speaking to her, and while he does so he picks up her hand and locks it into his own. 

The arguing paramedics have stopped arguing and are now in agreement. This woman needs surgery: quickly. From what I can gather the wedding car crashed on the way to the reception and due to the bride's dress she could not fasten a seat belt around her. When the car crashed she was flung from the backseat to the front window and has suffered large damage. 

The doctors are back up again and are heading to the man. They wrap their arms around him so that he cannot escape this time as the paramedics wheel the woman out of sight. The doctors embrace is not necessary though; I can see from the man's eyes that he has given up. As if time has slowed almost to a stop he falls silently to the floor and his arms come up to cover his face. The doctors let him go and as one  stays to offer comfort, the other goes off in search of assistance. 

The man sits there on the floor just outside of my door and he weeps, just as I once did. 

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