Welcome, April, and Happy Easter to all! I hope there are plenty of jellybeans and peeps in your life. It’s time for Tuesday Tales, April 4, 2023, where we use word and picture prompts in the stories we’re writing. I am working on a cozy mystery. Today’s word prompt is tough. We are still back in an earlier portion of the story, when Peri returns to Georgia due to her godfather’s medical condition. When you finish reading my snippet, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
At the gargantuan doors, there was a call button and instructions to say your name and that of the patient you wanted to see. After doing so, the doors unclicked, and I was admitted. There was Dovie rushing toward me. Much younger than Jack, but years older than me, she gave the impression of constant motion. Even when she was still, you somehow knew her mind was whirling.
“Peri.” She wrapped her arms around me. Then she led me past a nurse’s station and toward one of the rooms. “Only one person is allowed at a time, and for fifteen minutes. I’ve had mine. Go ahead in, darlin’. The head nurse cleared you. There’s a chair by his bedside. Don’t let all the wires throw you. They are,” she gulped, “necessary. There’s a tiny sitting room down the hall. I’ll be in there when you come out.”
I went in and stood for a moment at Jack’s bedside, stiffening with shock at the sight of him. He looked so drawn and pale. And old. When had he shrunk so? Or was it just the illness and mechanical hookups making him look feeble? My heart pounding, I made my way to the chair and lowered myself, my eyes feverishly searching for the tough, scrappy, life-filled Jack I knew. His eyes were shut, his breathing a frightening mechanical whoosh. A tube went down his mouth, and wires and electrodes splattered his gray skin. Monitors stood sentinel around the bed.
His left hand was free and lay curled by his side. I slid in my own, tucking my fingers inside his. “It’s Peri, Jack. I’m here.”
I held his hand, allowing myself to settle into a state of relative calmness, a kind of hospital stupor. I talked to him in a whispered tone, asking him to wake up and return to us. I told him that Dovie was nearby. At the end of the fifteen minutes, a nurse entered, nodding at me. I rose, squeezing his hand in what I prayed it was a temporary goodnight.
The next few days were much the same. We could only see him for fifteen minutes between ten and noon and again between four and six. It didn’t make any sense to me, but Dovie said it was a good sign because if he were at a place of no return, they would allow her to “hold vigil.”
I hope you enjoyed the snippet inspired by the word tough. Thanks for stopping by. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories
All rights reserved, copyright @ 2023 Flossie Benton Rogers
What a moving description of the hospital room scene. I love the line about the monitors standing sentinel. Heart rending to see a loved on like that. Excellent job, Flossie.
Thank you, Jean. It was a hard scene to write.
Powerful scene, bringing back memories of my dad’s last days. So hard to see those you love like that. Love your description of the room.
Such times are so hard and draining. Thank you for your thoughtful comments, Susanne.
You’ve put in the room with Jack. I can feel Peri’s emotions. Two thumbs up.
Thank you, Loretta. I’m glad. It’s a sad thing to write.
What a powerful hospital scene. Well done!
I appreciate your comment, Vicki.
Aww. sadness. I hope he’s going to be okay. It’s def hard to see loved ones in that condition- well done on describing the scene and her emotions. Jillian
Thank you, Jillian. It is a very difficult path.
This must have been so difficult to write – but you did it all so well and with your usual finesse. Great job sharing a tough moment with us.
Thank you, Trisha. Thinking of you each day.
Excellent description of the moments that she spent with him. I hope he pulls through. Great job!
I hope so, too.