FATE ON THE HOSPITAL BED
“Miss, just take care of him! Im scared to go near him, let alone feed him from a spoon,” a woman sharply drops a Sainsbury’s bag of groceries onto the bed where her ill husband lies.
“Try not to worry so much! Your husband will recover. He just needs attentive care at this stage. Ill help Harry get back on his feet,” I reassure her in my role as the ward nurse, soothing Harry’s wife for the umpteenth time.
Harry was brought in desperately ill, but hes got a fighting chance. He wants to live, and thats half the battle won. It’s just a shame his wife, Linda, has no faith in doctors. It seems to me Linda is already prepared to turn her back on her husband.
Strangely enough, years later, Harry and Lindas son will also battle tuberculosis, even with an aggressive form. Linda will write off her son Marcus instantly, and yet, Marcus will go on to recover anyway.
Harry, for all his grave diagnosis, keeps joking, laughing, and trying to leave the ward at every opportunity. The small village where his family lives doesnt even have a hospital, so Linda rarely comes to visit her husband. It hurts me to see this young man so neglected, unkempt and in shabby clothing.
“Harry, do you mind if I bring you a few things? I see you dont even have slippers wandering about in those shoes. Would you accept a little care package from me?” I tease, trying to cheer him up.
“Id take anything from you, Emilyeven poison if you called it medicine! But please, dont trouble yourself. Just let me get better. Then well see,” Harry says softly as he squeezes my hand.
I gently free my hand and leave the room.
My heart beats wildly with nerves. Am I truly falling for him? No, I cannot break a family apartit’s not right. Nothing good would come of ithappiness cant be built on anothers sorrow. Still, the heart chooses its own path, oblivious to rules. Oh, into the deep end I go
I find myself visiting Harrys room more and more, sitting with him for long chats. Night shifts are long, and our deep, honest conversations blur the passing hours. Before long, were on first-name terms.
Harry has a five-year-old son.
“My Marcus looks just like his mother, a real beauty. You know, Emily, once I loved Linda deeply. Id lay my life at her feet. Linda is passionate, enticinglike a whirlwind in bed. But she only loves herself. That sort of selfishness eats away at you, worse than acid. Now its you, a stranger, caring for me,” Harry sighs heavily.
“But Linda has to travel a long way. She cant come often,” I say, defending her rather feebly.
“Oh, come on, Emily! As the saying goes, a wife loved her husbandso she sent him to prison. Shes got time to run off to her lovers, wherever they may be. Ive heard the stories…” Harry starts to get agitated.
“Goodnight, Harry. Dont make any snap decisions. Things will work themselves out,” I say, switching off the bedside light and slipping away.
Of course Harry is suffering. He lies helpless in hospital, and meanwhile his wife is off amusing herself elsewhere. Its not as if its the end of the world, but even a small drizzle can flood the life of an ant, as the saying goes.
A week later, I hear a huge commotion from Harrys room. I rush in.
“If I see you in here again, you trollop, I swear! Get out!” Harry screams at Linda, who bolts from the room in terror.
“What on earth happened?” I ask in astonishment.
Harry turns away, silent, shaking under his blanket. Im forced to give him a sedative.
A month passes. Linda never comes once.
“Harry, should I ring your wife?” I suggest gently.
“Thank you, Emily, but its not necessary. Linda and I are divorcing,” Harry calmly replies.
“Because youre ill? Nonsense, youre on the mend!” I protest.
“Do you remember when I kicked her out? She came that day just to tell me she had a new lover. She wanted him to live in our house; she said my future was uncertain, and she needed a man around the placesomething about the roof leaking,” Harry breaks off, lost in thought.
“Thats horrific!” is all I can manage to utter.
Not long after, Linda turns up with another man. Harry doesnt see this stranger, but from the window I have a front-row view. The man sits on the bench outside, chain-smoking nervously while he waits. Linda skips out after an hour, races up to him, pecks his cheek, says something cheeky, and the pair rush off together.
“Harry, youre being discharged,” I announce.
“Emily, I want to ask you something Actually, never mind,” Harry falters, unsure.
“Harry, I know what you mean. And yesI agree. Perhaps Im being bold, but I hope I havent gotten it wrong,” I say, taking a leap of faith.
Harry opens up at last.
“Emily, I havent got a home. Can I stay with you for a while? Its finally over with Lindashes marrying that man.”
“Harry, I have a child. If youre willing to accept her, I think we could be a proper family,” I confess everything.
“A childs not a problem. I think I love her already,” Harry smiles at methe kind of look that melts me inside like a snowflake on a mitten.
Years and years have flown by since then.
Harry and I have two children together. Weve built a warm, loving home. MarcusHarrys son from beforeoften visits with his family. My daughter from a previous relationship lives abroad. If Im honest, there was never any marriage. I just stumbled as a young woman, trusted a man who spun me tales of endless love and a perfect future. But the music never played, and it wasnt to be. Still, I regret nothing.
Linda, meanwhile, remarried several times and had a son by some travelling salesman. That son grew up with mental health struggles. Linda never showed him much love or warmth and remained distant, letting him raise himself. After Linda passed away, the boy was taken in by a local care home.
Now, Harry and I are old and grey, but we love each other even more fiercely than in our youth. We walk together through life, cherishing each day, each glance, every breath we share.
