“Good morning,” a young intern on her morning rounds called out, bursting into the room unexpectedly just as Chrissie finished reading the poem to Tom. The doctor smiled, realizing she had startled them, and headed for the old-fashioned chart at the feet of Tom’s bed. She examined it, then turned to the various life support equipment, and made several adjustments. She then turned her attention to the two friends. “You’re going to have to leave the room in a few minutes; I need to change the urine-collection bag and recheck his catheter, then I’ll have one of the nurses give him a sponge bath. After that, he’ll be taken downstairs to the lab for another CAT scan of his brain as the first one failed to show any anomalies, so you won’t be able to see him for at least an hour, but probably closer to two.”
“Couldn’t we wait outside and then wait here for him when they take him down?” Chrissie asked.
“You could,” the doctor replied, “but there’s really no point to it. We won’t have any new test results for several hours and the specialists won’t arrive until later this evening. I suggest you get something to eat—the food here’s actually pretty good. Or go home if you live close by to freshen up a bit,” she said, smiling at Chrissie. “We’ll phone or text you if anything changes.”
“Thank you,” Phil replied as Chrissie seemed about to object. “I think that’s a good idea, Chrissie. I know you don’t want to go home, but we can at least grab a bite at the cafeteria. Later on, after we get the results of the new tests, I can take you home for a quick shower and a change of clothes.”
“I’m not the least bit hungry, Phil; I’d rather stay here.”
“I’m not exactly hungry either, but this is going to be a long night.” Phil replied, gently coaxing her to her feet. “Besides, there’s nothing we can do for him now, and he’ll need us at our best when he wakes up. Food and some strong coffee would help in that regard,” Phil added, in the most optimistic voice he could muster. “I promise—we’ll eat something and come right back.” She quietly, reluctantly acquiesced, rising slowly while glancing over at Tom, whose open eyes held no expression.
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“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” the doctor said, turning around and heading out of the room. “Remember, we won’t have any news for at least an hour or two, so take your time.”
* * *
Tom was still traveling towards the light at an ever-accelerating pace, plunging towards the core like an object past the event horizon of an immense wormhole. And as he approached what he sensed to be the end of his journey close to the light’s source, communing at last with the simplest, purest, unadulterated essence of truth, his shattering mind let out an agonizing silent scream of despair radiating outward towards the furthest reaches of time and space. He knew. He knew now, but could find no way to retrace his steps, to escape the awful truth, to undo what had been done, or to find even the solace of the hope, of redemption.
He reached outward with unbearable anguish, trying to fight off the irresistible despair engulfing him, groping to find within himself that which was no longer a part of him, grasping outward towards the now receding light with the last embers of his dying soul. . . .
* * *
Phil and Chrissie were walking out of the hospital room, with Phil slowly closing the door behind them. They were unaware of Tom’s right arm, rising slowly from the bed, reaching out for them, his fingers slowly extending and clenching in a futile grasping gesture for which he could not muster the necessary strength. For an instant, the veil of darkness lifted from Tom’s eyes sufficiently for him to see the blurry vision of his retreating friends, and of the door to his room closing behind them. For a moment, he continued reaching out towards them intently, despairingly, his arm finally falling to the bed as two pairs of footsteps echoed over the marble floor, fading in the distance, drowned out by the wheezing sound of the respirator pointlessly making Tom’s chest rise and fall rhythmically, his eyes still open but growing duller, a single tear winding its way down his ashen cheek.