My last Goodbye

The room was quiet, Very quiet. All you could hear was the beeping of the machines. And the silent sounds of breathing from the stilled form in the hospital bed, centered in this terribly white room. His breaths were evened out with the help of the oxygen mask that lay upon his face. I’ve been staring at him for about 10 minutes in the entrance of the door, stunned at this display and paralyzed with fear. Ice cold that’s what I feel right now. Nothing but the cold sweat in my palms and the drumming my heart is painfully slamming against my ribcage.

I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding in and head over to the hospital bed to sit on the chair along his bedside. It takes me awhile to realize that he looks chalk white and his lips are severely chapped; there are multiple bruises of his arms and neckline as well. I’m guessing from needles or his Anemia. With shaking hands I reach for his, I flinch a little at how his skin is so cold but I intertwined my fingers with his either way. I hold his hand to my chest and kiss his knuckles. My sight starts to get watery from the tears forming in my eyes. I try hard not to let them fall, but this before me is hard not to. It was only a week ago, how could his condition get this worse over such a small time span. A week ago we were doing karaoke in his basement and dancing along to the music, eating off plates filled with so much junk food on the table. A week ago, we went to Sunday mass and then headed of the park walking along each other holding hands in the peaceful breeze settling with the comfortable silence. A week ago, I was making an omelet for him and the guys, enjoying their tease of me being a good wife someday. A week ago we went to a party, drank till I was gone, and came back home a crying mess. Crying to him telling him not to leave me alone, falling asleep in each other arms.

A week turned everything to nothing. Sniffing I try to get my self-control back before I make more noise and wake him up. He looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep and I don’t want to add less time into that. I scoot a little closer and lay my other hand on his cheek. He’s so cold its scares me. Caressing his cheek with my thumb I begging to fail at keeping the tears at bay and some fall and slid down to my cheeks causing them to moist up and drip down my shirt. I knew this day would come, Doctors predicted only a few weeks left but I never thought it would come this fast, now that is it I don’t know what to do. My hand moves from his cheek to his forehead and I move his sweaty bangs that cover his perfect face. He’s in a cold sweat fever from the feel of his feverish forehead and his ragged breaths, which I just realized right now. The oxygen mask must be helping his lungs get more oxygen than his body is allowing him too. My sniffles are getting louder and there aggravating me but I can’t seem to help it seeing he like this is so unbearable and heartbreaking. I just hope he doesn’t wake up I don’t want him to see me like this. I’m supposed to have a strong front on and be supportive not crying like a baby. I lean forward and kiss his temple leaving my lips there for a while. I sit back down on the chair crossing my arms, while still holding his hand in mine, and lay my forehead on my arms on top of the hospital bed. Facing the sheets I try to use all the strength I have to muffle my cries and whimpers.

The bed shifts and I freeze, I sucked in some air and stay still for a few minutes; fearing that he woke up. The bed shifted yet again and then I realize it’s one of the nurses just checking up on his monitors and his temperature. Probably thinking I fell asleep on his bedside the nurse tries to make as little noise as she can an then leaves the room closing the door as gently as possible. I exhale the breath I was holding and feel relieved. After 5 minutes I finally raise my head up, done with the sniffles and tears at bay, I look at the clock and realize that visiting hours will end in 14 minutes. I take this time to just look at him and just admire him while I still can. A pained noise comes out of the mask and startles me; I jump of my chair and analyze what caused the noise. After a few seconds of nothing I come to conclusion that maybe it was nothing alerting but him just making noise in his sleep. As I grab hold of his hand again, after released it when I jumped, and covering it with both my hands I rested my head on them trying to sooth my beating heart from a panic.

And just when I had calmed enough the noise comes out again. This time though his hand clenches at my own. Fear rises within me. Leaning over I see that his face is scrunched up in a show of discomfort or pain. And there it is again a muffled noise coming from his mask and it takes a while to realize it’s a whimper. Panicking I try to soothe him. I start to caress his forehead and brush my fingers through his hair to calm him down a little. Whispering soothing nonsense to him and massage his hand with my thumb. After a while his face starts to relax and his tense body loosens up. His breathing slows down and his heart rate decreases. All the machines go back to their normal state indicating everything is okay. He’s okay. I know I should have just pushed the panic button to call a nurse over and help but my caring instincts wouldn’t allow me. He’s my everything, and the thought of someone comforting him beside me brings a seating jealousy out. Even if they have more understanding of his condition than I do. I want to feel like I can help him as well and not have this useless feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Even thought his skin completion is sickly white and he looks like he lost plenty weight, as I really look at him right now. I’m sadden to admit this but he looks like this is as good he’ll ever get and this is as better as his condition will proceed. Noting that visiting hours has ended and it’s time for me to go, but I’m afraid to leave his side. Fear of tomorrow outcomes. Fear of him hurting and not being there to sooth him. But I put a strong face and bend down to peck him goodbye in the lips and stroke his cheek once more. Standing up I walk my way around the bed and head towards the door. Door open with one foot outside the room I take another glance at him and say a little prayer in my head and whisper my goodbye. . .

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