The Patient

The soft beep of the machines continued. The room was dark, emphasizing the equipment's flashing lights as it kept track of the patient’s vitals. The patient was deathly still, unable to move, unaware of the whirring beeping and buzzing around them. 

This patient was not expected to live much longer. 

An air of reluctant expectation in the room was thicker and damper than the rain outside. It was New Year’s Eve. An ice storm was raining down outside- shutting down the city as much as the patient’s body had been shut down.

The family of the patient had long ago given up hope and moved on with their lives. Occasionally, one would visit, only to leave a few minutes later, tears streaming down their faces when they saw no good change in the patient. They were holding onto the old ideas of who the patient used to be and only saw tragedy.

There was one regular visitor to this patient. Every night a person easily overlooked softly entered the room and silently stayed with the patient for a few moments. This person saw many things happening with the patient- all of them joyous and to be celebrated-unlike the patient’s own family who only saw the disease, illness, and loss.

The visitor had been coming to this patient’s room at night ever since their check-in. The staff was used to seeing the visitor silently standing beside the bed, sometimes holding the patient’s hand, sometimes gently speaking into the patient’s ear. The staff only simply went about their business, almost like the visitor was not there. No one ever requested the visitor to leave. The team members who were fully aware of the visitor were glad the visitor was there to comfort the loneliest of their patients. 

After the visits, the room’s air was lighter, freer, and happier, and the patient was more settled and more content. The nurses’ reports proved that the patient required fewer check-ins, less medication, and slept more easily afterward. 

This icy night the visitor saw a tremendous change with the patient and joyfully placed its hand on the patient’s chest. The nurse that came in to check vitals noted the visitor’s presence briefly, said hello, and then, as usual, went about her business. In her busyness, she missed the slight glow of warmth coming from the visitor’s hand and soaking into the still form on the bed.

The nurse also missed another small change; a faint rosy flush was creeping up the patient’s face. As the nurse left the room to move to her next chore, the entire patient became engulfed in a gold pulsating warm glow. Time stopped for the occupants of the room. The visitor and the patient became entangled in their own private bubble of glowing, energetic communication. A great many things passed back and forth between the two, unwitnessed and unseen by the other humans on the hospital floor. The patient’s body slowly came to a full rest as the visitor compassionately spoke of universal understandings and wisdom into the patient’s ear. The visitor knew that this was the time the patient was waiting for, and it was now or never. With a sudden movement of its ancient hand, the visitor took some of the glowing gold energy from around them and flung it into the air above the dying patient. The patient’s eyes opened up in a startled movement, found the visitor’s face, and then was drawn to watch the gold hanging expectantly above the bed.

A flash of gold color tingled with silver escaped out of the room and rolled down the hallway. But no one else noticed, as was usual.

The visitor and the patient spent the rest of the night watching a replay of the patient’s life in the gold energy cloud. Sometimes they stopped the replay to sit in silent discussion, hashing out details until the patient arrived to a stillness of mind, a restful peace of mind. Many of the patient's family members were players in this gold-tinged movie, and many times the patient wished things had been different in the past. There were tears, and there were laughs, there were angst and regret. And there was forgiveness.

When the visitor saw that the patient had indeed learned the lesson required, he felt satisfied and knew it would not be long before the final release. The visitor then turned the conversation towards what was next for the patient and chuckled as the patient's eye widened with wonder and excitement. It had been such a long time since the patient felt excitement in life.

Early the next morning, after the ice storm outside abated, and the staff had changed rotations, at the exact right time, the patient blinked thankfully to the visitor and made their decision, a final decision as far as this life was concerned. It was the best decision possible in these the direst of circumstances. 

The visitor softly held the patient’s hand for one last moment and spoke of what true universal love was, is, meant, and how the patient was now fulfilling it in their life. 

The visitor had through the night written out several letters for the patient’s family. Now the visitor gently held them up for the patient to see once more. At their request, the visitor held the letters up one by one to the patient, and the patient kissed each one tenderly with a love that had not been present in their life for decades. Both of them knew that the family would be eased and comforted by the words in the letters. The letters would serve to repair what had been broken for a long time between the patient and their family.

The sun peaked over the horizon, and both of them knew it was time. The patient blinked back tears of relief and then shut their eyes for once last time.

Unseen by the staff and other patients on the floor, a brief flash of brilliant gold light sparked over the patient’s bed, raced around the room, fled outside through the window, and melted into the sunrise.

The visitor smiled, content with the night's work. He slowly gathered up the maintenance crew equipment that he had been placed in the corner at the beginning of his shift with the patient. The visitor then left the room, whistling. Another day, another job completed.