Soul

Summer 1981

The Intensive Care Unit was a cold and sterile room. It was large and square with several beds and a nurse's station. Rather than brightening the room the fluorescent lighting gave everything a sickly pallor. Several chairs were scattered about for those awaiting the news.

I was there because my brother had recently been in a motorcycle accident. He had lacerations, broken bones and a ruptured spleen but he would survive. He was lucky. He was always lucky. He was in numerous accidents and he always came out of them alive. I sat with my mother who handled these moments very well. She has always been a pillar of strength at times like this. As my brother was resting comfortably my thoughts and attention began to wander around the room.

The bed nearest the door was empty and naked. A mountain of sheets and blankets were folded and piled on the mattress. They were cleaned, pressed and awaiting there next mission. Even the floor around the bed was clean. No discarded weapons of medicine scattered about after another life saving battle.

An elderly gentleman occupied bed number two. He was pale and gasping for air. A lifeline of oxygen ran from a gray metal tank to his ancient nostrils but appeared to provide no respite for him. He did not appear to have the strength to survive ten more minutes no less the entire evening. Even so his eyes were bright and he had a quiet dignity about him. His wife sat next to him, a silent sentinel clutching his hand. Her love filled eyes blinking back the tears.

Several people surrounded bed number three. The group appeared to be in a state of shock. They were pale and huddled together like a séance of ghosts. They whispered to each other, cried softly and did their best to preserve the peace of the room.

On the bed lay a woman no more than thirty years old. Her hair fell lifeless and dull around her head. Her face was pasty and her breathing was shallow. Her skin seemed to be translucent; I could almost see the blood slowly coursing its way through her veins.

As I watched the life seemed to leak from her body. I did not hear anything out of the ordinary. I did not see her spirit leave. However, just before she died I sensed (for lack of a better word) her soul leaving her body behind. Before the monitors erupted to life I knew she was dead.

Suddenly, the room had shrunk to the size of an old phone booth. My heart was racing and my lungs were struggling like a newborn for air. I felt like I was going to pass out. As I fled the room I was followed by the shrill alarm of the heart monitor and cries of sorrow coming from her bed.

After regaining my composure I returned to the ICU and my mother told me that the woman had passed away. Listening to the family my mother found out that she had recently given birth and developed a post delivery infection that went undiagnosed until it was to late. As we left that evening I imagined her spirit hovering above her bed in confusion wondering what had gone wrong.