The road stretched on and on as the Ford F-150 roared down the barren dirt road. Yellowing grass grew alongside the road while beside it, endless fields of wheat, corn, and many other crops stretched on as far as the eye could see. In the distance, The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape.
Inside the truck, the driver gripped the worn steering wheel, feeling the vibrations of the road beneath. Dust occasionally billowed up behind the tires, leaving a trail in the truck's wake. The windows were rolled down, allowing the crisp breeze to infiltrate the cabin and carry away the warmth of the day.
The gravel crunched beneath the tires as the Ford F-150 came to a stop in front of the modest farmhouse. The house, weathered by the elements, stood still as the wind blew around it. The house’s front porch, adorned with a rocking chair and surrounded by pots of vibrant flowers and windchimes, whistled as the driver got out of the truck. Almost as if hearing him stepping out of the truck, a farmer, wearing faded denim overalls and a worn-out hat, emerged from the house.
The driver of the truck, a man who looked to be in mid 30s, stepped away from the truck as he shook the farmer's hand.
"Evening," the farmer greeted with a friendly nod, "It's good to see ya again Markus."
The driver, a man with a black dusted beard and hair, replied with a small smile as he pulled out a bag from the floor of his truck, "Nice to see you again to John". With that, John led Markus into the house.
Inside the farmhouse, a cozy ambiance welcomed them. The creaking screen door closed behind them, shutting out the sounds of the wind and the chirping birds. Soft, warm light came from pendant lamps that illuminated the interior of the farmhouse, creating a comforting glow. The air was filled with the savory aroma of what Markus assumed to be Bacon, the smell and the subtle scent of wood giving the space a sense of what Markus had grown accustomed to. Passing by the small kitchen where the smell came from, John led Markus into a modest yet inviting living area. A well-worn sofa and a couple of vintage armchairs surrounded a coffee table scattered with family photos and a few weathered books. The walls, adorned with handmade quilts and paintings depicting scenes ripped straight from the bible, added to the midwestern atmosphere Markus was getting from it.
John gestured towards the worn couch as he glanced towards the stairs. "Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go and wake Mary.”
Markus nodded appreciatively, taking a seat on the inviting couch as John ascended the creaking wooden stairs. The savory aroma of bacon and what he could only assume was eggs still lingered in the air. When was the last time he had been invited into such a welcoming place? Many of his patients, typically rural folk, lived in run-down houses or trailers and didn't quite take his presence for a good omen. Carefully picking up one of the frames sitting on the coffee table, Markus looked at the picture inside.
The photograph captured a moment frozen in time — a family smiling in front of a church, its walls painted white. Two small children sat on the steps of the church while behind them, a much younger John and who he could only assume to be Mary stood, their smiles wide and bright. Where were the kids now? He thought as he placed the frame back on the table, just in time as he heard the stairs creaking next to him.
“She’s awake now, doc”.
Pulling himself up from the couch, Markus made his way up the stairs. Reaching the top of the stairs, he found himself in a hallway adorned with more family photos. Each frame seemed to tell a story of the family, from when John and Mary first met to having their kids and beyond. Yet as he walked further, the less and less the pictures appeared before only one remained. It was a small picture, taken relatively recently if the date scribbled on it was to be believed, and it showed John and Mary standing in front of their house, the children absent. He stared at the photo for a moment before shaking his lightly and continuing to follow John before they stood before a wooden door at the end of the hallway.
As Markus was about to open the door, John stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Doc…please be a little quiet, she isn't doing well right now.”
Markus nodded solemnly as he entered the room. The room, bathed in the gentle glow of a muted light, exuded a quiet solemnity as Markus entered. Curtains swayed delicately, permitting fleeting glimpses of sunlight to cast soft patterns on the walls. Lying in a bed placed by one of the windows, Markus watched as Mary looked out of it, staring at something he couldn't quite see. Mary was old, the lines etched into her face and body making her seem older than her tender age of 78. Looking back at John who stood silently in the corner of the room, Markus sat down in a chair next to Mary as he continued to look at her.
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Mary still hadnt noticed him, even when he tapped her shoulder lightly, until she noticed John on the other side of the room. She smiled warmly, even more so when she noticed Markus sitting next to her. Clearing his throat quietly, Markus spoke in a calm and reassuring tone,
"Mary…it's Markus, your doctor. I'm here to check on you and make sure you're comfortable. Do you remember me?"
Mary turned towards him, her eyes reflecting a distant recognition. The lines on her face seemed to deepen as she strained to make a connection. "Markus?" she murmured, the name floating in the fog of her memory.
"Yes, that's right," Markus affirmed, offering a gentle smile. "And John is here too, by your side."
Mary's face brightened at the mention of John, her loyal anchor in the sea of confusion. "John," she whispered, her smile growing. "It's been so long, I haven't seen you since you left for…" her smile faded lightly as she tried to remember, “...Vietnam…?”. Behind Markus, a large lump formed in John’s throat as he smiled. That was 15 years ago.
Nodding slightly at the statement, Markus looked towards Mary as he spoke quietly. “Yes Mary, he got back not that long ago, he raced here the moment he heard you were sick”. Mary's face lit up with a warm smile as she turned her attention towards John who now stood next to Markus.
"John," Mary whispered, her voice filled with affection, "you came back for me."
John, with a heartfelt smile and an even bigger lump now forming in his throat, replied, "Of course, Mary. I wouldn't be anywhere else for the gal that stole my heart."
Markus, during their exchange, continued with the physical examination. Gently taking Mary's right hand in his, Markus carefully located her pulse point. Her skin, weathered and sagging, squished slightly as his fingertips lightly pressed against the radial artery, feeling for the subtle rhythmic beats beneath the surface. Moving his finger around slowly, he could feel the pulse, faint but discernible.
Pulling his hands and reaching into his bag, Markus pulled out a Stethoscope and placed the end of it against her chest. The gentle beating of her heart echoed in Markus’s ears as he counted, each second followed by a single beat. After a minute of listening, Markus pulled the stethoscope away and placed it into the bag. For the next thirty minutes, he checked her eyes, her reactions and more before eventually, he stood up.
“Excuse me for a moment Mary, I need to talk to John for a moment. Is that alright?”
“That okay…Markus.” she responded as she scrunched her face up for a moment before remembering his name. With that, Markus and John quietly exited the room as Mary returned to looking out the window. Going down the steps, the two men stood in silence for a few minutes in the living room before Markus spoke
“...In my professional assessment, she doesnt have long to live, maybe four to five mon-”
“I know doc, I know…”
Markus looked at John, his face full of saddening emotions. He offered a supportive nod as John continued, his voice cracking slightly,
"She's been my rock, Markus. We've been together for 48 years. I married just before I was deployed and now? It's just like before and again I can't do anything to help her. It's all just…so” John couldn't finish speaking as tears welled up in his eyes. Markus stood in silence as the man beside cried. This was a scene Markus watched happen far too many times. Out here in the country, where only traveling doctors can help people, this was something they had all seen at least once and each time was as saddening as the last. Biting the inside of his cheek as he tried not to let his emotions get the better of him, Markus looked to John as he spoke.
“You can leave now doc, I thank you for coming just to check her over…”
Markus was silent as He placed a reassuring hand on John's shoulder before responding, "I'm truly sorry, John. I wish there was more I could do."
John, his emotions laid bare, managed a faint smile through the tears. "You've done what you could, Doc. Just being here means a lot."
With a final supportive nod, Markus quietly left the room, giving John a moment to think about what he had been told. Heading outside, the moon now rising slightly in the sky, Markus climbed in the truck after slinging his medical bag onto the floor. Sitting at the wheel, he was quiet for a moment before he beat his hands against it. He beats his hands against the wheel for a minute, denting it slightly before stopping, his hands raw and red. He breathed heavily from exertion before placing his head against the wheel.
Pulling away from the farmhouse, Markus looked out the window as he rolled along the dirt road. If god was listening, if there even is a god, why? Why does he let this happen? Why can't he just let people like him just stop it? All he wanted to do was help yet it always felt like something was stopping him every single time. Someone catching tuberculosis and being told they can't be helped, a baby whose breath grew smaller and smaller as he tried to resuscitate it, the kind old lady with dementia that was killing her…
Markus drove for some time, the moon rising higher and higher in the sky before eventually, he came across a small motel on the side of the road. Pulling into its parking lot, just a few cars sitting in it, He got out and made his way to his room.
In the dimly lit motel room, Markus found himself surrounded by the mundane comfort of worn-out furniture and flickering fluorescent lights. The air hung heavy with the residue of countless transient occupants, each leaving behind fragments of their own stories.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking underneath him, Markus stared blankly at the cracked ceiling. The events of the day and previous others replayed in his mind like a haunting film reel. The faces of those he couldn't save, the weight of their stories, and the echoing cries of grief all blended, forming a cacophony that echoed within him.
Eventually, he reached for the bedside table, retrieving a weathered notebook and a pen. The act of writing had become a form of therapy for him, a way to externalize the burdens that he carried. As the pen glided across the pages, Markus poured his emotions onto the paper, capturing the raw essence of his experiences.
"Why does it have to be this way?" he mused, the pen scratching against the notebook. "Why does the road to healing often seem so impassable?"
After writing for a few pages, Markus placed the book back on the table before leaning
back on the bed. If there is something, anything, please just let me do it god he thought as his mind slowly drifted off into sleep.
Yet after he had fallen into the clutches of a deep sleep, something happened in front of him. He had forgotten to turn off the TV in his room, something he regularly did since nothing of interest was ever on, and from the scrambled static that flowed across the screen, a small window pulled itself from behind the static.
World Synchronous complete, have a nice day