Flatline

You smell the antiseptic as you walk down the hallway. The place has always creeped you out and you try to stay away as much as possible. Sometimes, this place can bring the most amazing gifts. It can also bring your worst nightmares. Sometimes we pick which of these situations we get to endure. Others are handed to us by fate.

You stare through the glass with your breath making it harder to see what's going on. Your grandmother takes ahold of your hand and slowly leads you away from the window. You stare up at the door as she pushes it open. You see your parents crowding around a blue blanket and you tentatively walk forward. Your ma moves so you can get closer to your mom and your new baby brother. "Andrew, meet your new brother."

You knew something was wrong as soon as your Ma answered the phone. She grabbed up your little brother and told you to put your coat on as she called your grandmother. As she drove, you asked what happened. She said one word, "Mom." You weren't sure whether to be scared or excited. Your mom wasnt supposed to be home until Christmas. Something must have happened. You jumped out of the car and grabbed your brother as your Ma had already sped towards the hospital. You hurried behind and followed to a room. You don't know if you really want to go in. You don't know what has happened. You slowly open the door and see your mom sitting on a hospital bed. She's still wearing her uniform and you surge forward to hug her, before your ma can even get to her. You wrap your arms around her and know that she fought hard for our country.

You grab the crutches and slowly limp into the waiting room. You know your motorcycle is probably wrecked but you just want to go home and get some sleep. Your parents surge forward so fast you almost fall over. You expected this much but you didn't expect the hugging. You expected there to be screaming and arguing. You expected to have to use the line, "Ma, I'm eighteen, remember?" a thousand times. You didn't expect to find tears on your mothers' faces as they help you back to the car. You decide to never be this reckless again.

You stare through the glass at all the babies. Some are sleeping; others are wide awake, looking at the world with curious eyes. You focus your attention on a little pink blanket on the left. You know she's yours because she looks exactly like her mother. She is looking at you and you swear she smiles, just a little. "Welcome to the world, Andrea." You whisper in awe.

You rush through the doors as soon as you get the call. You hear nothing as you speed toward the desk, demanding a room number. It's not until you get to the room that you realize what has happened. You walk into the room with tears in your eyes, determined to be strong. You take in her pale skin and how fragile she looks in the big bed. You see the flowers already starting to pile up beside the bed. You slowly walk forward and sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs. You reach out and grab her hand. "I love you, mom."

You pace the waiting room, occasionally looking at your wife. She seems so much more calm that you are. You check the time for the fifth time in ten minutes and sink into a chair. As soon as the door opens, you stand up as quickly as possible. He leads you to a room where your daughter is sitting, pink cast on her leg. You surge forward and pick her up, never wanting to let her go. You know she'll never be allowed to go ice skating again.

You're not sure you heard the doctors words right. There's no way. You take a moment to let it sink in. You vaguely hear the doctor talking about treatment. You're not sure what you are going to tell your family. You just came for what you thought was a stomach bug. You leave the office with tears in your eyes. How are you supposed to tell your family you have cancer?

You remember when you taught her how to walk. How to talk. How to drive. You remember walking her down the aisle as she married the love of her life. You remember all of these things as you walk through the maternity ward. You can't believe she's grown into such a beautiful young woman. It feels like déjà vu as you stare through that glass once again, looking at all the newborns. You hope she knows how lucky she is to get to do all the things you did for her.

You faintly see two figures standing over your bed. You don't remember how you got there but you know you're in pain. You think about how ironic it is that you will die in a hospital. The same hospital that has brought you both joy and tears. The hospital that your daughter was born in. You wonder what's happening in the other rooms. You think about all the times you've walked these halls and felt pain for others you loved. You wonder if your loved ones are feeling pain right now. You hope not. You want them to think of all the good things that have happened in this hospital. None of the bad. You hear your machine flatline as you close your eyes, a smile on your face.

Author's Note

This story came to me a couple years ago when I was sitting in a hospital room. I wondered what was happening in the rooms around me. How many people were crying and how many have received the best news of their lives. I hope you enjoy and please review.

Reviews

[Madison Russell]

Update: This won the Kennesaw Mountain Writer's of Promise competition. Very excited, never thought a piece of writing that I wrote at two in the morning could win any kind of competition. Definitely has encouraged me to continue writing and posting, though I have been absent for about a year.

[jvava]

This a good little story; I like how it depicts milestones inside of a hospital. I like the point of view you used. Great job!! Keep it up!

[Madison Russell]

Thanks! I wanted to try something different so I did second person point of view. I think it turned out pretty good for being written at three in the morning lol