FATE ON THE HOSPITAL BED
Miss, take these and look after him, will you? I cant even stand to go near him, let alone feed him from a spoon. With a sharp motion, a woman dropped a shopping bag onto the bed where her ailing husband lay.
Please try not to worry so much. Your husband will get better, he just needs proper care right now, I said, hoping to calm Mrs. Barnes. It wasnt the first time Id had to reassure a tuberculosis patients wife as a nurse.
Oliver Barnes had been brought in, terribly unwell, but with a fighting chance to pull through. The man wanted to live, and thats half the battle. It was a pity his wife, Harriet, didnt seem to have much faith in doctors. I always felt as though she had already given up on him before even giving us a chance.
Its funny how life goes; many years later, Oliver and Harriets only son, Jamie, also fell gravely ill with TB. Harriet washed her hands of him instantly. But Jamie survived, somehow.
Back then, despite his illness, Oliver was always cracking jokes and trying to make the ward feel lighter. He absolutely hated being stuck in the hospital, desperate to go home. Since their little village had no proper hospital, Harriet hardly ever visited. I couldnt help feeling sorry for Oliver he always looked neglected, almost abandoned, shuffling around in worn-out clothes.
Oliver, how would you feel if I brought in a few bits and bobs for you? Ive noticed even your slippers have gone missing youve been padding around in old brogues. Would you mind terribly if I gave you a care package? I tried to keep things light-hearted.
From you, Emily, Id take poison for medicine if you offered it. But really, theres no need. Just let me get well first, and then Oliver gently took my hand in his.
I gently slipped my hand free and stepped out onto the corridor.
My heart was fluttering. Was I falling for him? No it wouldnt be right to break up a family. That sort of thing never ends well. Nobody wants to build happiness on someone elses sorrow… but the heart has a mind of its own, and defies every rule. Ah, well, in over my head it is…
I found myself visiting Olivers room more and more, spending longer with him, losing track of time during those endless night shifts. Our conversations grew deeper; before I knew it, we were on first-name terms.
Oliver had a five-year-old son.
My Jamie takes after his lovely mum. You know, Emily, I loved Harriet deeply, did everything for her. She was fiery a storm between the sheets but she only ever truly loved herself, and I cant do anything about that. Her selfishness eats away at me more than my illness ever could. And yet here you are, a stranger, looking after me, Oliver sighed.
To be fair, Harriet cant visit much. The journeys a bit much to do often, I tried to defend her.
Oh, come off it, Emily! You know what they say she loved her husband enough to buy him a cell in prison. She doesnt have trouble running halfway across the country to see her new bloke. Ive heard the gossip… Olivers tone hardened.
Get some rest, Oliver. Its best not to rush into anything. Things will work out, I said, switching off the light as I left.
Without doubt, Oliver was in pain. Left helpless on a ward, while his wife went off on little jollies with others. It wasnt fatal, of course, but for a little ant, even a droplet is a flood.
A week later, I heard a commotion in Olivers room. I rushed in.
I never want to see you in here again, you trollop! Get out! Oliver was screaming at a shaken Harriet.
She scarpered like shed been fired from a cannon.
What happened? I asked, wide-eyed.
Oliver just turned to the wall, trembling under the covers. I had to give him a calming injection.
A month rolled by and Harriet never came back.
Oliver, should I ring your wife? I quietly suggested.
Thanks, Emily, but dont. Were divorcing, Oliver replied, remarkably calm.
Because of the illness? Nonsense, youre on the mend, I was genuinely surprised.
Remember when I threw Harriet out? Shed only come to tell me about her lover, said he should move into our house, since Im practically a ghost, and she needs a man around the place leaking roof, and all that, Oliver fell silent.
Thats dreadful, was all I could manage.
A few days later, Harriet returned with a man. Oliver didnt notice, but I saw him from the ward window a nervous fellow, chain-smoking on the bench outside, waiting. After an hour, Harriet breezed out, pecked him on the cheek, cracked a joke, and off they went together.
Oliver, youre being discharged, I told him.
Emily, can I ask you something? Or… oh, never mind, Oliver hesitated.
Oliver, if youre about to ask what I think you are yes, I agree. Suddenly bold, I blurted it out.
He opened up.
Emily, I dont have anywhere to go. Could I stay with you for a bit? Things are finally clear with Harriet shes getting remarried.
Oliver, I have a child. If youre happy to accept her, we could be a proper family, I confessed.
A childs not an obstacle. I already love her, Olivers gaze met mine. I melted like a snowflake on a mitten.
Years have flitted by since then.
Now, Oliver and I have two wonderful children together and have built a warm and loving home. Jamie visits often with his own family. My daughter from before lives overseas although, between us, there was never a marriage, just a youthful stumble. I believed a young mans promises of everlasting love, but his melody never quite played out. Still, I have no regrets.
As for Harriet, she married several more times, had a son by a lorry driver passing through, but that boy suffered with his mind all his life. Harriet showed little affection, cold as marble, letting him raise himself. When Harriet finally passed away, the poor lad was placed in a care home.
Now Oliver and I are pensioners, but our love burns brighter than ever. We walk lifes path side by side, cherishing every day, every glance, every breath.
And what have I learnt? Love, when its true, asks not for perfection or timing, but simply to be met with openness and care. Happiness is found not by looking back, but by treasuring today.
