Читать книгу Daniels Song - Katherine Dobney - Страница 5

I stood at the large metal doors taking a deep breath, letting a calm, surround me, before I pressed the call button. “Pediatric. ICU, can I help you?”

“Hello, Liz. It’s me, Daniel.”

Then I heard the click of the lock on the door, it sounded like thunder, in a place so quiet. As she unlocked the door for me, you could hear a pin drop. I opened the door and walked down the long hall to the nurse’s station. There were the glass doors to the patient’s rooms but most of them were closed and the curtains drawn. The sound of machines echoed off the walls. One thing I’ve learned working here is that you can smell life, fresh with belief. But death… death you can taste, bittersweet. The building’s marquee declared this Columbia Memorial Hospital. Even though I had passed through its entrance uncountable times, I always referred to it as the Columbia hospital. The word Memorial felt so final to me when this area was full of nothing but children.

I know that white is a wondrous, and pure color, but not in this place. The white floors and walls seemed lifeless, and sterile like the chemical smell of the disinfectant. The only bit of color was a saying in large purple letters on the wall above the desk that read ‘DIVINE THINGS MUST BE LOVED, TO BE KNOWN’.

“Hi Daniel.” It was Liz greeting me. She was wearing scrubs with bright green frogs and blue dragonflies on them. It was her way of trying to bring some happiness to this place. Even I had to smile at the contrast. Liz was in her thirties. Tall and slender, with big green eyes, the color of pale emeralds, and an astonishing smile. It was contagious because everyone around her seemed to always be wearing one. Her light brown hair was always up in a clip of some kind, something bright and cheery, which would match her scrubs.

“Timmy has been asking for you.”

“I was running errands again, and I was told not to come back without paper and crayons.” I held up the bag from City Art supplies.

I didn’t have to ask how Timmy was doing, I knew. I always knew.

“I’ll walk with you to his room, I need to check on his medication.” Liz put a bright pink Post-it note next to her wristwatch.

Timmy’s room was at the end of the hall. His door was open with the curtain pulled back. The room was full of all the pictures he had drawn during his stay. Pictures full of so much life and color. They were of different places, places Timmy would make up in his mind. His imagination seemed to be endless. Timmy had stories from living under the sea to dragons. He had stories of what it would be like to live on other planets, even down to the strange colors things would be. I would write the stories on the back of all of his pictures, word for word, as Timmy would tell them to me. Because sometimes Timmy would check, just to make sure. Now, I couldn’t help but think of some of his amazing stories.

Timmy looked so tiny and frail in his hospital bed, which seemed to be five times his size. Timmy was eight, the oldest of three children. He had been put aside like some old clothing outgrown or out of style. His parents were addicted to drugs and were so consumed with them selves that they forgot they had children at all. That’s what drugs do to families. By the time the children were taken out of the house and put into a foster home, Timmy was already very sick. For the past six months this place had been his home. How sad to think of this as a home. And I had been here at Timmy’s side from the beginning, helping as much as I could.

Timmy looked like an angel. His short little blond curls were just beginning to grow back. And those beautiful blue-green eyes, you could see his soul in them, a wise soul. Not the soul of a child. I could tell that Timmy knew what the cancer was doing to his tiny little body. Liz was busy writing down all the information from the machines in Timmy’s room on her pink Post-it note.

Liz loved children. She didn’t have a family of her own, but wanted one. It was hard for her, knowing that most of the children here she could not save. Liz spent half her shift at the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and half at the Emergency Room, where sometimes all it took to mend a broken heart, was a Band-Aid. How I wished it would work for all her patients.

“You`re late.” I heard, as I stood looking into a set of blue-green eyes, the color of the sea in the summer's last light. A light that was slowly fading away along with his life.

He was so weak his voice was just above a whisper.

“Errand boy, remember?” as I pointed to myself. I heard Liz snicker as she left Timmy’s room. “And yes I did get everything you wanted.” I told him as I sat in the chair next to his bed. It was quiet for a long while before Timmy spoke.

“I am scared Daniel”

“I know Timmy, but it will be okay, there is nothing to be frightened of.” I held his little hand in both of mine. It was so tiny.

“Will you remember me?” I felt shocked at the idea. I would always remember the children.

“Timmy I will never forget you.” Children always seemed to have a different way of seeing the world than adults do.

With a little smile on his face he said, “I know, I’m just afraid of leaving you alone. Who will take care of you when I’m gone? You don’t have a mommy or daddy to take care of you.”

“Don’t worry Timmy, I have a wonderful father.”

“Is he nice”? His voice almost lost in the quiet.

“Yes Timmy, he’s very nice.”

“Daniel I’m tired and it’s cold.” His voice seemed hardly a whisper.

I knew Timmy would sleep with angels soon, and I would be there for him, as long as he needed! Even after all this time the loss of a child was still hard for me to understand.

I noted that Liz had turned off the sound on the machines, so Timmy couldn’t hear it. I wrapped him up in another blanket, being careful of his wires and tubes. Then I held him while I sat in the large rocking chair. As I rocked Timmy, the movement back and forth seemed to help his pain.

“Daniel, I love you,” his small voice whispered.

“And I love you Timmy.” How could you not love a child like this?

I could hear Liz, humming to a restless child in the next room. Liz hummed a beautiful lullaby, one her mother had taught her as a child. She sang it to all of the children. Liz said once, that when she sang the lullaby, she felt the presence of her mother watching over her. I found myself rocking Timmy, in rhythm to Liz's lullaby. One verse in Liz’s lullaby, ‘may there always be Angels to watch over you,’ was for all of the children. As I touched Timmy's forehead he seemed a little chilled. I grabbed the blanket off the back of the rocker and wrapped it around him. Timmy looked up at me, with those blue-green eyes, and I knew angels were watching over him. Putting his head against my chest, he slowly closed his eyes. I continued to rock Timmy, holding him close to me.

I remembered the first time I heard Liz singing that song. It was when I first started working here. I hadn't been assigned a child to care for. I did whatever job Liz, or any of the other nurses, needed. Liz was always watching me skeptically. She didn’t readily trust new persons around these vulnerable children. She was a tigress near her cubs. Late that evening, a few of the children were very ill. All the other the nurses were making rounds. Liz asked if I would look in on one of the girls. I went and sat in the chair beside her bed. The rail was up and only a little hand was visible outside the blankets. Her name was Samantha but everybody called her Sam. She didn't thrive like other children her age and after many tests they found that she had a heart defect. She was here in the hospital to get stronger. She was excited that they were going to fix her heart so she could play with the other kids. I had to chuckle to myself, because she had a heart bigger than anyone I knew, she was full of life.

But this night was not being kind to her. The medication she had to take for surgery was making her sick. All I could do at the moment was to sit in a chair and rub the little hand that stick out from the blankets as I hummed to her. Later she got violently sick. Instead of calling for a nurse, I grabbed clean linens out of the closet. I filled a washbasin with warm water and washed her face and shoulder and a bit of her hair as she smiled up at me. I gently rolled her over to one side of the bed and propped a pillow behind her as I removed the soiled linen. In less than twenty minutes, Sam was in clean pajamas and in a clean bed with fresh linens.

I went to change my shirt. It was soiled and didn’t smell very well.

“Don’t go,” said a little voice behind me, “I don't want to be by myself.” I smiled at her and then reached to the linen cabinet one more time, pulling out two pillowcases. I rolled one up and covered it with the second wrapping some surgical tape around it. Taking a dry eraser marker from the sign-in board the nurses used I drew a face on the outer pillowcase. With that I walked over to Samantha's bed and introduced her.

“Sam. This is Oscar, the octopus.” I tried to say calmly without laughing at myself.

“Oscar? You couldn’t find a better name?” she said weakly. I remembered the strange names kids gave their stuffed animals and friends, real or imaginary. I had to think fast on my feet.

“Oscar’s special.” I told her as I handed her the makeshift toy Why are kids always one step ahead of you?

“Why is Oscar special?”

“He was born with a little problem, like you. See, he doesn't have all his legs.” As I pointed to four corners of the pillowcase as of they were his legs.

“They’re going to fix my heart.”

“Yes they are.”

“Are they going to fix Oscar too?”

“I think you'll find they’ll fix him too.” As I smiled at her, she took the little makeshift animal, tucking it underneath her chin, cuddling it, and fell asleep. I would have to remember to add another pillowcase so that when Sam came out of surgery Oscar would have eight legs.

I was digging through my backpack to see if I could find something else to put on, maybe a T-shirt from earlier today.

Elizabeth walked in the room, and handed me what used to be a bright red scrub. Now it was only a threadbare pink one.

“Daniel, I'm sorry for doubting your abilities. What you did for Sam tonight was more than anyone would ask of you. You gave her peace of mind; you showed her you really cared about her.

From that moment on, Elizabeth allowed me to help wherever I could. That night, not only did I gain her trust, I gained a great friend. Since that time we shared many joys of watching a child leaving, getting out of the hospital. When a child didn't, we shared that sorrow together as well. Sometimes it's hard to believe that was five years ago.

Tonight I rocked Timmy as the sky outside turned from blue to deep purple causing the stars to blossom into brightness. I just watched the stars as I rocked Timmy in a slow easy rhythm.

It was two in the morning when Timmy took his last breath. He was finally at peace. Liz came back into the room and looked at us. I was still holding Timmy, rocking him slowly. Liz gently unhooked the monitors from Timmy’s little body. She had a tear in her eye when she spoke.

“Daniel, I know there is nothing I can say that will make you feel better, I’m so sorry.”

“Liz, I know, he’s at peace now and there’s no pain.”

“Stay as long as you want, Daniel”. Liz put her hand on my shoulder. You could hear the sorrow in her voice.

Liz pulled the curtain and door closed as she left the room. As always, I stayed and started my prayer. “Our father in heaven…” So many children, so many prayers, and no wonder the heavens were filled with songs. I made sure Timmy’s soul, was followed by a prayer. “Father…”

Most of my assignments were children. The ones no one wanted, the ones that were dying. I laid Timmy back in his bed and walked out the door. Yes, I would always remember him. How could I ever forget such a loving child, who only wanted love in return? I walked up to Liz at the nurse’s desk to tell her thank you.

“Daniel, I have a question for you,” she said as she stood up “I don’t know what you want me to do with Timmy’s things. Since you bought them for him, I didn’t know if you might want them?”

I didn’t have a use for them. When I was assigned another child I would just start over. “Please find a child on one of the wards who would enjoy them.”

“And his pictures?” Liz asked me.

“You can use them to brighten the place up a little. His stories are on the back of them. You can read them to the other children. I was glad Timmy made me write his stories on the back of every picture. My mind drifted from dragons to sea monsters.”

“Daniel are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yes, and thank you for everything. I appreciate it very much.”

I gave Liz a hug, thinking that she needed it more than I did. She needed the comfort. I wished I could have done more. I turned, and walked down the hall to the door. A walk I had done a hundred times, and will do a hundred times more. As I opened the door I heard, “We can always use a few more good guys like you.” Then the door closed with a final, echoing click. What we really need are a few more angels, were my thoughts.

I needed the drive to the house to be much longer than it was. I needed to think. Did I say the right things to help Timmy through this? I didn’t know. I hoped I made it easer for him. He deserved better, better than what I could do.

I knew I would have some time before my next assignment. The trouble was I’d likely spend it wondering if I could have done anything more.

As I drove up the long drive, I noticed lights. Someone was up. I needed just to get past them and to my room… if I could. But I doubted it. It was hard to keep things like this quiet. I could just sit in my car, but someone would come looking for me, sooner or later. I knew I had better get this over with. It was a nice night, and someone had left the door open. For a minute I thought I could get to my room without notice.

“Daniel.” Then I thought, ‘maybe not’. It was Rachael’s sweet voice, “If you want someone to talk to…”

“No, I’ll be all right.”

“Hey, Danny-boy.” Thinking, ‘so much for getting to my room now’, I held my hand out in front of me to stop him.

“Willy, I don’t have time for this right now.” I knew I would have to talk to him at some point, but not now.

“Okay,” he smiled. He always had a smile on his face. “But that’s not how it goes.” He put his hand out in front of my face. “When you put your hand out like that, you’re supposed to say ‘Talk to the hand’.” I just looked at him, most likely with a very dumb look on my face. I had no idea what to say. And how would talking to his hand help me? I just turned and walked down the hall to my room.