Visits From A Man Named Nobody 82

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It took Paul a few moments to orientate himself after a nurse shook him awake. His arm, and probably forehead, had a red spot from where he’d slept on it. He took in the pews and the religious stained-glass windows. He looked from the cross back the the nurse, a rather rotund young man, who woke him. 

Then his mind finally came fully awake. “What’s wrong?” Paul leapt to his feet looking around.

The nurse scuttled back a few steps. “Everything is fine,” he said. “I’ve just come to tell you your mother is in her room resting. It’s room 2201.” 

Paul hoped whatever he muttered sounded like a thank you as he rushed in the direction of his mother’s room. He glanced at his PID. It had been two hours since he brought her to the hospital. The nurse said everything was fine, but what did that mean? Did it mean his mother was just comfortable, or did it mean that she really felt better? 

Paul took the stairs, wanting to be moving instead of waiting for an elevator. He took them two-at-a-time until he got to the right floor. Then he sprinted to the room, ignoring anyone who shouted at him. 

He entered the room, startling his mother, who was sitting up in her bed with her back against the headboard. She was reading. That didn’t mean too much. His mother would read the Bible if she were on fire, but she didn’t look to be in any pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What’s going on?”

She smiled at him. Something about the smile struck him. Then he tried to remember the last time he’d seen her smile. It might have been before that first reaction to the treatment. She probably smiled between treatments, once the side effects wore off. 

“I’m waiting for an MRI,” she said. “They examined me and gave me a bunch of doses of drugs I’m not certain I can pronounce, but I feel much better.”

“Then why do they want to do the MRI?” Paul asked. He pulled up a nearby chair and sat as close as he could to her bed.

She shrugged. “They said they want to see what’s going on. I only have one more treatment to go, and they’re hoping the treatment has had an effect already.”

“Maybe they’re hoping to skip the last treatment.” Paul was essentially thinking out loud. He looked at his mother. “So you feel better.”

She took a deep breath, which meant she was thinking carefully about what she was going to say. 

“I do right now.”

They stared at each other. Neither of them were likely to forget what she’d said. 

Paul broke the silence. “You don’t have to fight for me.”

She gave a look that was full of guilt, verifying that she wanted very much to stop fighting. 

“I don’t want you to be in pain. I don’t want you to hurt. I don’t want you to suffer.”

… to be continued …