Anika's Point Of View ~

Though you are sick in this moment, I am hoping for you to pull through . . please. 

Please, grandmother. 

My hand never leaves hers. Susan called me a few days ago. Remember grandmother mentioning that she had a headache? . . I recall her sneezing as well, a handkerchief for her runny nose too. 

I do. 

And since then, grandmother hasn't been getting better. But worse. It's a flu. And a bad one too. Grandmother's health has gone down . . each day that has passed since those symptoms, if you will, showed themselves. I am hoping that she pulls through and comes back to her old self but I know that grandmother can't fight sickness like she used to in her much younger days. But I'm hoping . . I hope. There's no harm in that, right? I have a rush of deja vu as we have come back to the hospital. In the same room grandmother was in when her hip was injured. That has healed, but now, there is something else wrong. As for the nursing home, I hope, but I must also know that we may never return. 

In my chair, I sit back as the nurse monitors grandmother. I see as she writes many things down on a sheet of paper that is clipped onto a clip board. A smile is given to me before she tells me that the doctor will be in shortly. I look at grandmother, her eyes closed. She doesn't have the strength to keep them open . . she told me. But her chest still moves as she breathes. 

Thank god. 

Within minutes, I see a doctor walk in. I stand up from my seat, feeling myself keep everything crossed. He looks over her and again, writes many things down on a sheet of paper. I walk out of the room, standing now in the hallway. It doesn't take long at all for the doctor to then join me. That isn't a good sign . . is it? I have my arms crossed over my chest as I look at the doctor. He looks down at his notes and I feel as though he has said it all even though nothing has yet been addressed. 

I hope, still. 

But I feel like it's far too obvious. 

"Anika. She is fighting, yes. But we must prepare for the worst . . " 

His hand on my shoulder. "If she doesn't make it . . " 

I look down, just nodding my head. Taking in what he just said, replaying it over and over in my mind. And each time, it does nothing but torture me. The doctors have to tell the truth, they must be straight with patient's families, I get that. But . . fuck. That just really hit me. I feel as if I'm about to fall over, my legs giving way so that my body will thud onto the floor. With an imagination such as mine, there is never a dull moment. 

But I find my footing. 

Mentally holding myself up.

I must be strong. I look back up at the doctor. His voice quiet, emotionless too. And as for his eyes, they appear with only a dash of sympathy. It's not personal, it never is. It's just business. It's just . . life. Being a doctor, he has been through this before. Having had this very conversation with countless other people. He is used to it. But me, I'm not. I don't know what to say. What do you say? When you're told something like this. 

"I'm sorry, Anika. Call me if you need me . . " 

"Thanks doctor . . " 

I'm not angry at him. I'm angry- ugh, I'm just angry with what is happening. I don't want this to happen. I thought she had more time. No, no, Anika. She isn't gone. Stop thinking like that. I hope. I still have hope. And it's something I must hold onto. It's all I have. I need to calm down. I take a deep breath . . not just one, but many. I feel my heart slow down a great deal. The seat that sits outside of grandmothers hospital room welcomes me back as its unoccupied, still. I sit down. Actually feeling a little bit relaxed. The large window to my left is here too. There are no stars, no darkness from the night sky. This time, it's a day where the sun shines. I can hear in the distance, the honk of car horns, the hustle of many as they carry out their daily routines. I know the feeling. Grabbing a coffee in the early morning to somewhat make the day seem like it will be a breeze. But today, I am not doing that. Instead, I'm here. Back in the hospital because grandmother is so sick with something that could take her away. Compared to out there, everything in here is slow moving . . and sad. So fucking sad. 

Be strong, Anika. Stay strong. 

I just can't believe that I'm back here. I hate feeling like this. You know . . not knowing. I need to just redirect my thoughts and think of something that no matter what happens, puts a smile on my face. It doesn't take long. Oh, I know. I already have someone in mind. 

Michael. 

I smile as I think. When he came here that night. 

When he kissed me at midnight. 

I remember. 

The power of his presence and under much happier circumstances too. Can I go back? To the kiss, to a time where I knew everything was going to be okay with grandmother. But now, I have a cloud over me with rain that doesn't seem to be stopping. My hands cover my face but leave just as quickly as my phone begins to ring. Now hands hold onto my phone, the caller . . it's a worried Lisa. 

"Hi Lisa . . " I say softly. 

"How is she, Anika? . . " Lisa asks. I shake my head gently, my lips squeeze together. I don't wish to speak, to say much of anything because I know answering such a question will bring many tears that I am trying so hard to keep at bay. 

" . . she'll get through it, Anika. I- I'm here if you need someone . . " 

Lisa says. She knows. I speak but it's only a soft 'okay'. I feel a rush of defeat all of a sudden. It's silent of a few seconds. My head hangs down. There isn't much else to say. But Lisa speaks once more before the line is switched off. "Do you want me to come stay with you at the hospital? . . " I immediately decline, snapping my head to look up once again. A very nice thing to say but I don't think it's a great idea. With a mix of grandmother's flu and an already fragile memory, even more than before, it's for the best if it's just me. Lisa's voice no longer heard as the short call has now ended. Now what? I want to call him . . but perhaps I shouldn't. I feel like I will crumble as soon as I hear that voice of his. Wanting and wishing for him to be with me right now. His name in my sights, my thumb hovering over the call button. Should I call him now? . . maybe not. I myself, am still in the dark with grandmothers condition as it's really just a waiting game. Hoping she will improve. 

Let's just wait and see. 

I return to her, to her bedside. My hand back upon hers. It's so . . eerie. Everything around me doesn't exist, those sounds of the outside world just aren't heard anymore. 

Fight this sickness, grandmother. Fight it. 

I brush my thumb over her hand. Hoping she knows that I'm here. That she isn't alone. No way. The other hand of mine falls on top of her bedding, smoothing it down softly. My fingers then adjusting the blanket that sits on grandmother's stomach. I just want to make sure it is covering her, keeping her warm. The pillow is next. I move slowly, gently . . very slowly to ensure grandmother isn't disturbed. My fingers press down on the pillow, a part that is free from her head. It's a pillow that is soft for her. I am doing this to help her. Be a voice for her if need be and to just bring her comfort. I stop fiddling finally as my other hand takes hold of my phone once again. I am not sure but I tab onto my photos on my phone . . to see photos of grandmother and I. Back when I was growing up. I chuckle slightly as there are so many and even more back at grandmothers house. Grandfather even showing himself in some photos. I scroll through the seemingly endless array of photos with a brief look at each, knowing I have many to get through. Then, I see a photo with Michael and I. 

A smile, it's instant. 

This photo is recent. Michael is such a great distraction. Even in photos you can see the sparkle in his eyes. It's his smile alone that lifts me up . . causing me to forget where I am for a few seconds. My heart begins to beat faster from the sight of Michael. How does he do it? But that's just it - Michael does nothing, nothing at all. 

I hear a sound. I know that sound. 

It's not one you ever want to hear. 

Then other machines start to make a racket. I snap my eyes at grandmother, darting them to the machine that is beside her. It is a machine that is monitoring her heart. I hear that the rhythmic beeping as ceased suddenly as it's now replaced with a never ending, flat one. I feel a rush of panic, instantly. I shoot up from my seat. 

"Please help me! . . nurse! Nurse! . . " I yell out. 

The doctor and two nurses rush into the room within a matter of seconds. I stand back while they do what they can for grandmother. Hands over my mouth and nose as my feelings change. The shock . . the fear. The two nurses and doctor have their voices raised as they communicate. It's a mix of many things - administering medications, chest compressions, in a desperate attempt to bring grandmother back. But it's a soft 'doctor' from one of the nurses that confirms it. The doctor takes a deep breath as I see his eyes look over at the clock hanging on the wall. 

"Time of death . . 2:30pm . . " He whispers, shaking his head. 

I'm in a daze, everything is just a blur as the only sound heard is still the never ending, flat beep that continues before the doctor switches all the machines off. He takes me away immediately, returning to the hallways once again. My breath is caught in my throat. I feel as if I need air. I can't talk. I can't think. I can't do much of anything . . but cry. The doctor speaks to me very softly. I know they did everything they could. 

"I'm sorry, Anika. Did you want us to call someone for you? . . " 

That question allows me to think of someone instantly. 

"No it's okay. I- I will call someone. Thank you doctor . . " 

This time, there is no thought. There is no hesitation. The phone ringing now, my heart pounding, tears . . so many tears. Strong? . . there is now no such thing. 

"Anika hi, how is she? . . " Michael asks softly. Getting right to it. 

Silence. It's his voice that makes me break down even more. 

"She- . . she's gone, Michael . . " I sob. 

to be continued.