Heat Up a Cold Room

How often do we forget about our real values? How often is it too late to start caring about them?

It sometimes happens that our heart gets too apathetic and cold to things, events, or even people who surround us. It sometimes happens that we forget to value what’s the most important for

us until we realise that we are losing it.

Tom was brought to a hospital late at night. He had a lingering pneumonia, and when he

began coughing with blood, his mother called an ambulance right away. Having just reached the age of 18, he was an outgoing boy, who could never sit still, was always drinking hard, blowing smoke, partying, and didn't have a care in the world.

"Same old thing, mum. You are always worrying over every little thing," Tom said to his mother, who was sitting next to him in his hospital ward.

"Maybe I am, but I still think a doctor ought to see you. You know it is about your health," she answered.

"I am not an old cap and I don’t care a curse about all these age-related diseases and diabetics. But well, if you say so."

Silence.
"You can leave now, I don’t really want you sitting here when my friends come," said Tom in

an annoyed voice.
"Doctor will come in about 10 minutes," his mother replied.

Her voice was trembling as if she knew something would happen. She stood up and bent

down to kiss her son, but he stopped her. "I’m no longer a child."

His mother left, and he stayed alone in a tiny and dark room with only a bed and a radiator that was out of gear. It was rotten cold that winter, so Adam decided to creep under a blanket. He took his phone out of a pocket and opened his photo gallery, that was full of waste.

He was scooped in to his first party by Adam, who was a real clubber. Tom’s mother was against these enormous night outs by which teenagers meant to drink heavily, so he lied to her, saying that he’s going to a movie night with his friends. There was a movie though, but the one that would never be showed on TV. Expensive alcohol, girls from a high-school, a large swimming pool illuminated from beneath, and barbarous music breaking out of the large speakers. Heaven, he thought then. Tom and his already grown up friends, as they considered themselves to be, took a picture in front of the house, that was a wreck next morning.

"Hello, Tom," said a tall man with a confident bearing.

"Is it comfortable for you to have this white morning dress on that girls usually wear after a shower?" Tom asked sarcastically.

"Well, it is my job to look like a woman of fashion who just took a shower. However, the reason why I am here is not to talk about clothing but about your health. How do you feel?"

"Good."
"Is that all?"
"What else should I say? Or maybe I should write an essay about how excited I am about

being in this wonderful place surrounded by wonderful sick people and lots of other wonderful stuff?"

"That is a wonderful idea, actually! I’ll be waiting for it."
"Oh God, really? Take it easy, white-coat, I won’t waste my time doing that."
"It is up to you. I wish I could talk to you for a longer time, Tom, but I need to go to see other

patients. Can I do something else for you before I leave?" "Fix the radiator, it is cold as hell."

"I’ll call a master to do that for you."
"Thanks a bundle."

The doctor left, and Tom could breathe easily. Nevertheless, for some reason it was hard. He

tried to pump air into lungs, but it seemed as if they resisted. It was not the first time when he had shortness of breath, and he was used to it. He knew it is because he smoked like a chimney. But this time he was really gasping for air. Then, after a coughing spell, it stopped. Tom could finally relax. He took his phone that was lying by him again and looked at his wallpaper.

"I’m sure my friends will come," he thought. "They won’t just let me die of boredom here." He unlocked his phone and started to scroll his photos again.

Tom and his girlfriend Meghan were on their prom. Such a lovely couple. She was wearing a

floor-length and clinging evening dress without shoulder loops and paved with gold beads. He was also wearing an exquisitely tailored suit. Their faces were wreathed in smiles, and they seemed to be happy together.

He cheated on her for eight times until she got to know that. Or for nine times. Or even more. Number didn’t really play an important role. As well as Meghan didn’t when they were dating. However, they did spend a good time together. They traveled, but mostly went partying, even though it was not something that Meghan was interested in. She wanted Tom to improve, to pass his exams, to enter a good university, but he didn’t want to clutter his mind with trivialities.

Tom slept for twelve hours. Having forgotten to wrap in a blanket against the cold of the night, he was chilled to the marrow of his bones. When he opened his eyes, he saw his mother and younger sister, Annie, sitting on his bed.

"Good morning, Tommy. Do you feel better? I brought you a teddy bear," said Annie softly.

"Good morning, Ann. I’m fine. Thank you for the toy, that is exactly what I was waiting for," answered Tom again in a sarcastic manner.

"Tom, please, could you be more nice to your sister? She cares about you," anger and disappointment was remarkable in his mother’s voice.

"No problem."

"Thank you. I’m going to talk with the doctor about results of your blood analysis and come back immediately. Speak to your sister while I’m gone, she missed you tonight."

His mother left, and Annie was narrowly looking at him.

"What’s wrong?" Tom asked.
"I believe you’re not going to die," Annie’s voice sounded confident.
"Are you kidding me? Your mother got completely mad, don’t listen to her. Do I really look

like a dying man?" 

"You do."

The room lapsed into deathly silence, that was disturbed only by the radiator’s noise. After five minutes of being completely turned in upon himself, Tom noticed his mother standing on entering the room. She couldn’t make any steps further, and it was obvious that she was trying to fight back her tears.

"Mom?" Tom asked quietly.

"Let’s go Annie, Tom needs some rest," she called Annie, who immediately kissed Toms forehead and ran to her mother.

"See you soon, Tommie," she shouted.

Tom couldn’t say anything. He didn’t understand anything. He didn’t know what to expect. It was a shock wave.

An hour passed. Then the second. The third. Finally, the familiar face showed up in the ward.

"Chronic obstructive lung disease," said the doctor, and these words were dispersing in Toms head.

"What does it mean?" asked Tom, who haven’t heard about that before.

"Your lungs are affected. There is a big possibility that you will not be able to breathe any longer."

Breathe. What did it mean "to breathe"? When Tom was a child, he liked to lay on his mother’s breast and to hear her breathing. It meant that she was alive. So did Tom. He also liked to play cards with her and his father, because he knew he would always win. When Annie was born, Tom was eleven. She was like a little angel with blue eyes and blonde hair, and Tom was so careful when his parents finally allowed him to hold her in his arms. At the age of fourteen, when his father got a promotion, they rented a retro car and went for a road trip across the US. They were sleeping in tents, making fire, singing songs, and while Toms mother was occupied with his sister Annie, his father and him went for long walks in forests where Tom pretended to be a dangerous hunter or Robin Hood, who was his inspiration. Then Tom’s father died of lung cancer, and he was the only men left in their family. He took on himself a responsibility for his mother and little Annie.

"Did somebody come here to visit me?" Tom asked the doctor who was still standing in the room.

"Except for your mother and sister?"
"Yes."
"A girl named Meghan, if I’m not mistaking."

Tom felt in love with Meghan at the age of fifteen, just when his father passed by. She was the

one who helped him to go through it. They met in the school, where they had a history class together. Both of them were interested in history. He could tell her many stories about Greek Gods which he was reading every day in a library just to impress her, and she pretended to be surprised because she knew he was passing three hours a day while sitting in front of a librarian. Then, she taught him to play piano and he taught her to play guitar. Their neighbours were not as happy as they were when they were playing together, especially when it was accompanied by them singing. They lived cross the street, so Tom sometimes climbed over into her garden, and then into her window, so they could just talk. He liked talking to her. Her words were always unpredictable and he liked the way she talked. It made him smile even when he felt desperate.

Tom didn’t know if he was going to die or not. Chronic obstructive lung disease. Not able to breathe. He never even heard about it, but he felt his lungs becoming less and less useful with every second. Neither these parties nor his pseudo-friends mattered any longer. Why did he care about all these things before? Why did he always take what had a really significant importance for granted? Being absorbed in his thoughts about his mother, his sister, and Meghan, he stood up and watched the winter sun slide along the taut curtains, turning their khaki to pale blood red. The radiator, that might have finally started working, was heating up the room.