They rolled me down the corridors of the county hospital on a wheeled chair.
Where to? one nurse asked another.
Perhaps a private bay? Or a shared ward?
Why a shared ward when we have a private one?
The sisters looked at me with genuine pity. I later learned that private rooms were reserved for the dying, so the rest of us wouldnt have to watch them slip away.
Doctor said private, the nurse repeated. I felt a wave of relief. When I finally lay down, a strange calm washed over me. I realised I didnt have to go anywhere, I owed nobody anything any more. A pleasant detachment settled in; the world outside could carry on without me. I had finally earned a break, a moment alone with my own thoughts, my own soul, my own life. The frantic worries and lofty questions evaporated, looking tiny next to the eternity that stretched ahead.
And thenbursting through the silencethe real Life shouted its presence! It turns out its rather lovely: the morning chatter of robins, a sunbeam creeping along the wall above the bed, golden maple leaves waving at the window, a deepblue autumn sky, the city waking up with the rumble of buses, the click of shoes on the pavement, the rustle of fallen foliage Good heavens, what a splendid Life! And I only just got the memo.
Right then, I told myself, Ive got a couple of days left to soak it all up and love it with my whole heart.
The surge of freedom and happiness begged me to reach out, so I prayed, because He seemed nearer than ever.
Lord! I exclaimed, laughing. Thank you for letting me see how wonderful life can be, even when the end is near. Ive learned how to live beautifully!
A quiet joy settled in, a glow of divine love bathed everything in gold. It felt as if love had finally become tangible, buzzing through every corner of my vision. I was, plain and simple, in love.
A private room, a diagnosis of stagefour acute leukaemia, and a grim prognosisall had their odd perks. Visitors could come at any hour. Relatives were invited to arrange their own farewells, and a line of mournful kin stretched out to me. I understood their awkwardness: what do you say to someone on their last breath? I found their puzzled faces amusing. I was thrilled at the thought of meeting them all again! Most of all, I wanted to share my love with them. I entertained the family and friends as best I could, spinning funny anecdotes from my life. By Gods grace, they laughed, and the goodbyes were tinged with joy.
Around the third day I grew tired of lying still, so I started pacing the ward, sitting by the window. Thats when the doctor strutted in, flustered, because I was getting up.
Will that change anything? I asked.
No, he stammered, bewildered. But youre not supposed to walk.
Why?
Your blood work looks like a corpses. You shouldnt be alive, let alone getting out of bed.
Four days passedthe maximum theyd allowed me. I wasnt dying; I was munching bananas with gusto. I felt fine; the doctor looked miserable, unable to make sense of the unchanged labs, the faint pink drip of my blood, and my sudden habit of watching television in the corridor.
Doctor, how would you like those results to look? I teased.
Just normal, he muttered, scribbling nonsense numbers that I pretended to read.
At nine in the morning she burst into the room, shrieking, What are you doing with the results?!
What results? I feigned innocence.
Theyre exactly as I wrote them! she wailed.
Ah right, I said. Who cares?
The drama fizzled. I was moved to the general ward. The relatives had said their goodbyes and stopped visiting. Five other women occupied the room, staring blankly at the walls, silently and solemnly slipping away. I endured three hours before my own love felt suffocated; something had to be done urgently.
I hauled a watermelon from under the bed, set it on the table, sliced it, and declared loudly, Watermelon cures chemoinduced nausea!
A scent of hope drifted through the ward. My neighbours hesitantly leaned over.
Really works? one asked.
Indeed, I replied with a knowing grin.
The watermelon crackled satisfyingly.
It does, said the lady by the window.
So does it for me, chirped another.
Here you go, I nodded, pleased, and launched into more comic stories.
At two in the morning a nurse popped in, scolding, When will you stop laughing? Youre keeping the whole floor awake!
Three days later the senior nurse, uncertain, asked, Could you possibly move to another ward?
Why? I asked.
Everyone here is improving, but the next ward is full of very sick patients.
No! my fellow patients shouted. Dont let us go!
They stayed. In fact, people from other bays shuffled in just to sit, chat, and grin. I understood why: love had taken up residence in our little room. It wrapped around each of us, making everything cosy and calm. I was especially fond of a sixteenyearold girl named Blythe, wearing a white headscarf tied in a knot at the back, the ends sticking out like bunny ears. She had lymph node cancer and seemed unable to smile, but a week later her shy, magical grin emerged. When she announced that the treatment was finally working, we threw a tiny celebration, laying out a proper feast.
The oncall doctor walked in, eyes wide, and said, Ive been here thirty years, and Ive never seen anything like this. He turned and left, and we all laughed at the look on his face.
I read novels, wrote verses, gazed out the window, chatted with my neighbours, strolled the corridors, and fell in love with everything I saw: the book, the lady beside me, the vintage car parked outside, the ancient oak tree. I was getting vitamin injectionssomeone had to poke me, after all. The doctor barely spoke to me, just gave me odd looks as he passed, and after three weeks whispered, Your haemoglobin is twenty units above the healthy range. No need to raise it any further.
I cant confirm your diagnosis, I replied. Youre getting better, even without treatment!
When they finally discharged me, the doctor confessed, Its a shame youre leaving; we still have so many tough cases. Everyone from my ward went home, and the departments mortality rate dropped by thirty percent. Life went on, but I now viewed it through a different lenssimple, almost childlike. All you need is to learn to love, and your wishes will come true if you shape them with love, without deceit, jealousy, spite, or malice.
Its that easy!
After all, God is Love. Just remember that, pass it on, and let divine love fill everyone and everything.
