It Hurts With Every Heartbeat
Mar 30, 2021 16:17:05 GMT -6
Ransack Manson, Remy Nakamura, and 1 more like this
Post by Darren Marsh on Mar 30, 2021 16:17:05 GMT -6
My best friend stands in front of me. His son hooked up to so many machines laying motionless on a hospital bed completely vulnerable in his room on the other side of the glass. I'm so distracted and my mind is in such a blur that I can barely understand what my best friend is saying to me.
Do you mind being with him for just a bit? We've been here for a week... We just want to go shower and change and maybe get some things for him.
He means things, cause we're not sure if he'll make it through the night. You see, the Doctor was just in here a half hour ago and told us he's been in a coma for almost a week and there is just no way for him to come out of it. He has to do it on his own and the Leukemia has made him so weak that the chances of that are just that slim. Less than 1% they said. I remember the Doctor saying "one percent" cause it was the inaudible silent cry that came from my best friends mouth as he dropped to his knees and his wife's scream that I'll never forget. I remember what he just asked me seconds ago and respond.
I don't mind. I'll be here with him.
Thank you, Darren. Seriously. I appreciate you.
Don't. Go get some rest and change clothes.
He nods and begins to walk down the long hospital corridor. I take one look at Jordan. Such a peaceful, patient, smart, funny kid. I remember..
Martin!
I look at my best friend with a tear in the corner of my eye.
His pikachu.
Huh?
His Pikachu action figure.
I look back at Michael.
Bring that. He always liked playing with it.
I turn the corner and enter Michael's room and take the one chair by his bed. As I sat I remember the call just a week ago that brought me here. I remember slamming the door on my shoulder, instantly bruising it and thinking this all can't be for nothing. Ugh. Shit. I'm so selfish. All for nothing? Like this story is about me? It's not. I'd do anything and everything for nothing if it meant Michael could get the hell out of this bed one last time and jump on his diving board in his backyard and dive head first into an ice cold swimming pool in the middle of Vegas' July.
A nurse walks in with a chart. She opens the curtains for the sun to shine in.
We like to open the curtains when we get closer to .. you know..
I looked at her. She changed her demeanor.
I'm just going to note a few things.
I have a question; what signs would we be looking for if he was to get out of this coma?
His heart rate to rise, any physical movements that's not twitching. His eyes opening would be a huge positive. However, sir, I have to remind you. The chances of that happening are less than 1%. His body is just so weak. It's .. it's just not possible, in my honest opinion.
I see.
I turn towards his bed as she checks monitors and continues writing on her chart and clipboard. I put my hand on his bed rail and just take a look at him. So peaceful. The nurse leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
I remember the day you were born, Jordan. You lit their world up. You lifted them to a level I've never seen my friends before. I remember your 5th birthday. I remember eating dinner every Friday night with you and your parents. I remember the day you didn't feel good just a year ago and the month later when we found out your diagnosis. I remember all these things because you've been such a huge part of my life.
I grab his hand. I haven't prayed since the morning of my academy graduation. Whew.
Dear God. Please. Please listen. I know I'm not the most church guy but I've never once cursed your name. I beg you, please. I know my best friend Martin has asked you to take him instead of his son, probably ten times a day for the last year, I'm asking you. Take me.
A deep breath.
Honestly, God. Take me. My wife is set up financially with my social security. Find a way to take me. He belongs to live here and there is nothing else for me. I swear there is nothing else for me. This fighting wrestling thing isn't working out. I'm no good at it. I can't make the money, I need. There is nothing, absolutely nothing on this Earth for me. I'm yours. Just take me and let Jordan live. I'm begging you. You have to.
I wipe my tears. I'm okay with this decision. This is how it should be.
I collect my thoughts.
I grip his hand tight.
He grips my hand tight.
I look at him.
His eyes blink.
He takes a deep breath.
Less than 1%.
Impossible.
The impossible just happened.
Maybe there IS something for me here.
Do you mind being with him for just a bit? We've been here for a week... We just want to go shower and change and maybe get some things for him.
He means things, cause we're not sure if he'll make it through the night. You see, the Doctor was just in here a half hour ago and told us he's been in a coma for almost a week and there is just no way for him to come out of it. He has to do it on his own and the Leukemia has made him so weak that the chances of that are just that slim. Less than 1% they said. I remember the Doctor saying "one percent" cause it was the inaudible silent cry that came from my best friends mouth as he dropped to his knees and his wife's scream that I'll never forget. I remember what he just asked me seconds ago and respond.
I don't mind. I'll be here with him.
Thank you, Darren. Seriously. I appreciate you.
Don't. Go get some rest and change clothes.
He nods and begins to walk down the long hospital corridor. I take one look at Jordan. Such a peaceful, patient, smart, funny kid. I remember..
Martin!
I look at my best friend with a tear in the corner of my eye.
His pikachu.
Huh?
His Pikachu action figure.
I look back at Michael.
Bring that. He always liked playing with it.
I turn the corner and enter Michael's room and take the one chair by his bed. As I sat I remember the call just a week ago that brought me here. I remember slamming the door on my shoulder, instantly bruising it and thinking this all can't be for nothing. Ugh. Shit. I'm so selfish. All for nothing? Like this story is about me? It's not. I'd do anything and everything for nothing if it meant Michael could get the hell out of this bed one last time and jump on his diving board in his backyard and dive head first into an ice cold swimming pool in the middle of Vegas' July.
A nurse walks in with a chart. She opens the curtains for the sun to shine in.
We like to open the curtains when we get closer to .. you know..
I looked at her. She changed her demeanor.
I'm just going to note a few things.
I have a question; what signs would we be looking for if he was to get out of this coma?
His heart rate to rise, any physical movements that's not twitching. His eyes opening would be a huge positive. However, sir, I have to remind you. The chances of that happening are less than 1%. His body is just so weak. It's .. it's just not possible, in my honest opinion.
I see.
I turn towards his bed as she checks monitors and continues writing on her chart and clipboard. I put my hand on his bed rail and just take a look at him. So peaceful. The nurse leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
I remember the day you were born, Jordan. You lit their world up. You lifted them to a level I've never seen my friends before. I remember your 5th birthday. I remember eating dinner every Friday night with you and your parents. I remember the day you didn't feel good just a year ago and the month later when we found out your diagnosis. I remember all these things because you've been such a huge part of my life.
I grab his hand. I haven't prayed since the morning of my academy graduation. Whew.
Dear God. Please. Please listen. I know I'm not the most church guy but I've never once cursed your name. I beg you, please. I know my best friend Martin has asked you to take him instead of his son, probably ten times a day for the last year, I'm asking you. Take me.
A deep breath.
Honestly, God. Take me. My wife is set up financially with my social security. Find a way to take me. He belongs to live here and there is nothing else for me. I swear there is nothing else for me. This fighting wrestling thing isn't working out. I'm no good at it. I can't make the money, I need. There is nothing, absolutely nothing on this Earth for me. I'm yours. Just take me and let Jordan live. I'm begging you. You have to.
I wipe my tears. I'm okay with this decision. This is how it should be.
I collect my thoughts.
I grip his hand tight.
He grips my hand tight.
I look at him.
His eyes blink.
He takes a deep breath.
Less than 1%.
Impossible.
The impossible just happened.
Maybe there IS something for me here.