Have you ever spent your whole day in a hospital, a ward with people who are dying? Well today I decided to do so. I was done with all my assignments, and I really didn’t feel like watching any movie nor read any book. I took a good look at my phone and decided to leave it behind: off the grid completely!
These beds are usually so comfortable I don’t know why they are called death beds. The beddings are usually very warm, and the food is served on time. Can this even get a dying man to have a glimmer of hope?
She doesn’t have hair, so I decide to stop touching mine lest I drown in a sea of guilt and get tossed back and forth by the waves of regret.
“Cancer is a monster. It makes you stay alone all the time unless you have that true friend or family but where I am right now, I see very few if not no true people who can stand with you. The only people who care about you are the nurses but wait, that’s their job, they get paid, they have no option. You lose all your hair, and you now look like… This reminds me of the times we used to laugh at our teacher of English for keeping a clean head always- we called him hitman don’t ask me why. You spend all your days looking at the ceiling, building castles in the air waiting for the day when you close your eyes for the last time, the time when you open your eyes to see angels or the devil or whatever people see when they are dead.
Cancer is like a vampire. It sucks all the blood in you and your loved ones. We all end up sliming second by second, cheek bones sticking out like fists, knees and elbows protruding like Moi’s staff: may he rest in peace, ribs manifesting clearly you might as well use them as grills. It sucks all the hope in you, and you end up being like a zombie.
When you get lucky to have people visiting you, you see the shock in their eyes, you see the glow in their eyes dim as they get closer. They get tongue-tied but a clear message that you should just die is screaming everywhere in their faces. They stay with you for some minutes and then frantic duty calls rob you of them. You start imagining what a relief they must have felt.
Have you ever tried to watch a horror movie in HD? Well, you should come and visit me, you’ll get first-hand experience without paying anything.
I am in a ward, we are several. At night you would think you are in a zombie apocalypse because Terry would scream at the top of her voice, Abby would start groaning, Mina would start spitting, we should as well be chosen to act the next Walking Dead.
We are all left to die, there is nothing more that can be done to us. Back at home they stopped fundraising for my treatment and now the funds will be used for my burial. Do I still remember the till number? I think I have forgotten; my brain cells have already started resting in peace.
Listen, when you are at the verge of dying, all you want is to die but somehow you don’t. You repent all your sins at least 20 times until you get tired. You become convinced that God has forgiven you. Then you start reading the book of Revelation and you get some relief because you realize you have escaped all that tragedy. You put the Bible aside and start talking to yourself, but you get bored somewhere in between.
So, you scoot over to your neighbor’s bed and you start talking about the things you will do when you get to paradise. Mina tells me that she will be picking flowers every evening to stick in her hair then go and dance to her Maker till they all fall of. I always joke that she would have been named Daniela. I always think of myself, listening to the angels playing their instruments all day especially the harp: I love the harp.
But then these fantasies don’t last for long because the nurses would come, and we would all go to our beds. I wish I would just die.
Aston, I hear you are a writer, you call yourself Astonishh? That’s a good name, I like it. I want you to write to your fans and tell them to show some love to people like us before we die. We just need something very simple: to tell stories. We have a lot of stories I wish you would stay here longer and hear all of them. All those who have relatives who are dying, let them visit them and hear the stories they have to stay, they will enjoy, and we will enjoy together. Let them not be afraid to come over, even though we look like zombies.
Stories are the basis of life; without stories we would live in a very boring world. When you want to win over a lady, it’s not your looks that will make you finally close her but it’s what comes out of your mouth, beautiful stories that will make her laugh or make her emotional. When you want a political seat, you must learn to lure your people with words, stories.
Stories will never die. Nowadays we do not have, or if we have, they are very few, who sit you down next to a fireplace and tell you stories of the 60s, 70s and 80s. Laugh with their coarse voices, look into the sky and draw lessons from the stories they tell you. Sometimes you don’t see the joke in what they say but the feeling you get is unmatched.
I want you to continue telling stories, do not stop! I will watch over you wherever I will be. You never know what your story might do to someone’s life. Stories heal Astonishh, stories heal!”