May you live all the days of your life

This is a piece is one I wrote in 2017 that I have revamped and hopefully made better. 

picture from pixabay

May you live all the
days of your life

She sat trembling, awaiting for the impending boom of thunder. The colossal crash is a reminder of her tragic loss. She looked out the window watching the rain drops trickle down the outside of the glass. Her life flashed before her with each bolt of lightning.

She remembered the good old days, the days when things were simpler. That the was problem with getting old – everybody you know dies, leaving you to weather the storm alone.

She had had a wonderful life full of love and affection. Her husband, Aidan, would have done anything for her. He was completely devoted to her as was her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

After her stroke she lost her sense of identity. Her personality changed. Her mind was fading fast and she was hardly able to string a sentence together. She aged quickly. She was eighty-six years old and looked every minute of it. Her skin had gotten loose and pale, leathery almost.

Aidan, who was also in his late eighties, had a fresh face and a full beard. He didn’t look his age. He was a man who used to be heavy set. You could tell by his clothes he had recently lost a substantial amount of weight. Marian was a great cook, and since Aidan was living on his own, he just lost his appetite. He missed his Marian. He described, on one of his many visits, that the house was so empty even the walls were quiet, like it was just an empty shell.

Marian was lonely as well. Even though she was in a mental health hospital surrounded by other patients and nurses, she felt alone because her Aidan wasn’t there beside her.

Every morning the nurses woke her up for breakfast at half eight. She got out of the bed in seconds, whizzing toward the dining room with the aid of her shiny aluminium Zimmer frame. It had two wheels on the front and two rubber ferrules on the back to enhance the grip and avoid the frame slipping on the yellow linoleum floor. She could really move when she was hungry.

After breakfast she took her tablets and get her blood pressure checked. Then she would speed back down to her room, a nurse by her side, ready to welcome the day.

Marian, who was a proud woman, felt embarrassed at the need for help doing mondain things, like showering. It made her feel her age, but as she had no other choice, she took the help graciously. The nurses were great at making her feel comfortable, and once she was dressed, they always blow dried her hair. That was the highlight of the morning. At home, Marian would have gone to get her hair blow dried once a week. It was her little treat to herself, so she was in heaven getting it done every day. She never paid any attention to the style each nurse manipulated her short grey strands of hair, she just loved the process.

She always felt exhausted after the morning routine, but then again, she was easily exhausted. She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes for forty winks.

The physiotherapist, Lauren, came to see Marian three times a week. She was a lovely young woman, her main focus on Marian’s mobility. She was trying to strengthen her legs and get her to the point that she could move around in her Zimmer frame on her own. Marian was grateful to her as she craved a little bit of independence.

It shocked Marian every day when 1pm came around – lunch time. She was accompanied to the dining room, even if she wasn’t hungry. She didn’t eat much. She had lost a good bit of weight also. The food in the hospital was delicious but Marian just couldn’t keep up with the pace at which it was being handed to her.

She was always the last one in the dining room, moving the same pea from the right side of her plate to the left and back again. The nurses gave her as long as possible to try and eat something. Most days there was no success. She was​ escorted to the chair in her room and the tablets were brought to her at 1.45 pm. She always got excited at this time every day as she knew that the love of her life would arrive soon afterwards.

Every time Aidan came to visit her, her face just lit up like a Christmas tree. He kissed her on the cheek and said ‘hello my love’. She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. She raised her hands and put one on each of his cheeks. ‘Hello my sweet!’ a bit of drool formed in the corner of her mouth. Aiden reached into his pocket and wiped it away with a white handkerchief and smiled.

Just like every other day, Aidan got Marian ready to take her downstairs to the coffee shop. He thought that day to be a bit chilly, so he placed a cardigan around her, carefully aiding her arms into the sleeves. He then bent down, his bones cracking, and took off her pink, Velcro slippers and placed her feet in her black orthopaedic shoes. She beamed up at him as he helped her out of the chair.

Anna, the nurse looking after Marian that day entered the room. She smiled at them both. ‘It’s the high light of the day, isn’t it Marian?’ Marian smiles in response.

Anna gives Aidan the run down on Marian’s night. ‘She had a good night overall. She woke at about 3 am for about an hour and had a yoghurt and a glass of milk but got back to sleep at around 430 am, didn’t you Marian?’ Anna asks. Marian just beams up at her husband, answering ‘yes’ with a toothless grin. ‘Oh Jesus, Marian, we forgot about the teeth.’ Anna rushes into the bathroom and retrieves them. ‘That’s better,’ Marian giggles like a school girl, as do Aidan and Anna.

Aidan walked Marian slowly down the long corridor to the lift. They went at Marians pace, stopping at almost every available chair for a breather along the way. When they reached the ground floor, they walked towards the coffee shop, marvelling at the art work on the walls. There happened to be a service user exhibition on at the time. They stopped at a few pieces that caught Marian’s eye. She couldn’t get over the talent that lay inside the hospital walls.

Eventually, they reached the coffee shop. Aidan sat Marian down and went to get two cups of tea and a chocolate chip muffin, which happened to be Marian’s favourite. After the coffee shop they went to the garden and sat on a bench. ‘Theres a storm brewing!’ Aidan commented. They sat and listened to the birds regardless and sighed at the same time. It was a sigh of happiness. They were together.

Marian took hold of Aidan’s hand and smiled. He smiled back. They were 18 again. They were silent but it was a happy comfortable silence. They had been together 68 years now. They hardly spent more than a weekend apart from one another until the stroke. They didn’t have to say anything to be happy. They were just happy to be together.

Aidan had Marian back on the ward for her tea. He walked her straight into the dining room and made sure she was settled before he left. He sat her down in the chair nearest the window and poured her a glass of milk. He then got her 2 poached eggs and some brown toast before leaving for the night. He kissed her on the cheek and said ‘I love you my sweet’. ‘Goodbye my love’ she replied.

The next day started out the same. She had breakfast and just as her hair was dry, she got some unscheduled visitors. Immediately she knew something was wrong. All five of her children appeared on the ward. Marian was confused. She searched for her Aidan. She was brought into the interview room where she was met by her doctor and nurse Anna. She noticed her kids all had red eyes, Aidan nowhere in sight. Her heart sank.

Her eldest daughter, Millie, moved close. Marian frowned. She couldn’t understand why her Aidan wasn’t there. She had palpitations as her daughter informed her that the love of her life had had a fatal heart attack when he arrived home the previous evening. The impact was like a defibrillator to the heart.

Three months passed and Marian hardly uttered three words. She had a continuous petrified look on her face. She couldn’t read or watch television because of lack of concentration. All of her thoughts were on her late husband. She was devastated inside but was unable to show it. Some thought she didn’t understand, but she was fully aware that the love of her life was gone forever. They doctors tried ECT to improve her mood, but she knew that it was a waste of time. She was bereft.

She still got up every morning and had her shower and her lunch. Every day after her 1:45 tablets she waited, staring at the clock in disbelief that he wasn’t going to arrive at 2pm.

She spent the time that she would have spent in the coffee shop remising over her Aidan. She knew she had it good, that Aidan was bordering sainthood. He did as much for her as he could without much acknowledgment.

It got to the stage where she wasn’t able to do much. Her memory becoming foggy with the ECT.

She remembered that she had been the designated caregiver in her life, yet now it was her getting the care. She tried to reassure herself that together, herself and Aidan had raised five amazing children in a three bedroomed house. She remembered how he used to break up the many fights that siblings naturally had as they were cramped like sardines as the children grew older. She wished one of them would surprise her and come to visit, but understood that they had their own lives with children and grandchildren of their own.

Now it's only her, 2 pm comes and goes. It’s now a nurse who escorted her, on the Zimmer frame, to the dining room for tea. They sit her down and pour her a glass of milk before getting her 2 poached eggs and some brown toast. It wasn’t the same however. She yearned for Aidan to pour the milk and butter the toast.  

As the darkness crept in, she sat by the window and looked out at the rain. She saw lightening light up the sky, closely followed by thunder. Her tears streamed down her face with the same ferocity as the rain pelting against the window. Her mind suddenly transported her back to the day of her wedding. She was seeing a youthful Aidan vowing to love her for the rest of her life. An eternal grin crept upon her. She closed her eyes, never to be opened again. They were reunited as one once more.