Chapter 1-2

1308 Words
Marc took advantage of the pleasant weather and bicycled to the base hospital. He made it to his work assignment with a full thirty seconds to spare. Dr. Wilson checked her watch and smiled. “Hello, Marc.” “Hi, Doc. How are you today?” “I still have this tight spot on my neck, otherwise I’m good. It’s been slow on the ward. Mr. Baldardi is back.” She sighed. “He’s terminal.” “Does he know?” Marc sat the doctor in a chair and massaged her neck as he often did for staff members. Doctor Wilson shrugged. “I’m not sure. The cardiologist’s notes weren’t clear. You know how he is, doesn’t want to talk about things. Mr. Baldardi is moody again.” She gave a crooked smile and stared at Marc. “You get along well with him.” “You want me to tell him.” “I’m never comfortable talking about death. I think he had an argument with his wife and daughter last night. The night nurse said they stormed out of Mr. Baldardi’s room.” Marc took a deep breath. He had trouble saying no. “Let me catch up on the other patients and check in with them. Then I’ll tell Mr. Baldardi. He’s a great guy with fantastic stories. I tease him that I want to adopt him as a grandfather.” Doc winked. “You’re a sweetheart. Finish my neck massage first, okay?” She moaned in delight. Over the next two hours, Marc caught up on the conditions of the other patients, handled their needs, and loaded up on coffee and chocolate milk. He checked in with Mr. Baldardi. The old man joked. “Where the hell have you been, Ensign? I could have died, and no one would notice.” He fiddled with the oxygen tube at his nose. “I had to catch up on duties and other patients.” Marc winked and held the man’s hand. “What? I’m not important? I’m a patient.” Humor was obvious in his tone. “Nick, you’re the most important patient. I saved you for last so I’d have more time with you. How’s it going?” Marc could only muster a weak smile. He tried to take a deep breath and coughed. “I’m dying. Didn’t they tell you?” Marc sat on the bed. “Did someone tell you that?” He shook his head. “No one’s had the balls to, but it’s obvious, right?” He held a hand to his chest. “I sense it, ironically in my heart, which will be the death of me, but also my gut.” Marc clenched his jaw and fought the tears that threatened to erupt. “You’re the best nurse in this whole damned hospital. Did they make you come in to tell me?” With his voice strained, Marc said, “Yes.” “How long do I have?” He brought his other hand on top of Marc’s. “An hour, a day, a week, a month. God hasn’t sent the memo. Your heart has had it. It’s ready to retire. I’m so sorry, Nick. You’re a neat guy. I like you. I love you.” He chuckled to lighten the moment. “And just when the paperwork was going through so I could adopt you as a grandfather.” His eyes glazed, and he huffed, “You’re the best nurse in this whole damned hospital.” He shook his head again. “I said that already, huh?” Marc swallowed at the lump in his throat. “Will you lie with me, just for a minute?” “It’s against regulations. I’m sure your wife and daughter will be here soon.” Mr. Baldardi tugged to adjust his oxygen tube again, touched the IV in his other arm, and straightened his sheet. “They’re mad at me.” Marc had other duties, but he knew he couldn’t leave this patient. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” Mr. Baldardi held Marc’s hand in a death grip. “I came out.” Marc tilted his head in wonder. “I told them I’m gay. I don’t want to die without admitting it.” He looked away. “I’ve done some bad things in my life, Marc, some really bad things, and keeping this issue buried deep is one of the worst.” “Do you want me to call for the chaplain?” As though he didn’t hear Marc, Nick spoke to the room, not looking at Marc. “I’ve known I’m gay since I was a kid. I married because it was expected, and I participated in a great charade. Our parents set it up. My girlfriend and I dated a few months, our parents said we should get married, and we did. I spent thirty years in the Navy because it was a haven. My wife and I didn’t love each other. We played roles assigned to us. I know she had a few affairs, and she caught me twice with a bud who visited.” He gasped. “Maybe I wanted her to, I don’t know.” His heart rate and blood pressure increased according to the nearby monitors. “Nick, calm down. You’re stressing yourself. Do you want a sedative? The doctor said you may have some.” “I’m f*****g dying. What does it matter?” He cried. “I killed a lot in Vietnam, and I used drugs for a while. I didn’t always work as hard in the Navy as I should have. Sometimes, I gossiped and even taunted sailors who’d been accused of being gay.” He went on. “I haven’t talked to my son in ten years. When he came out, I reacted with denial. I said terrible things to him, said he wasn’t a man. My wife’s religion is against gays. My daughter follows in her footsteps. That’s why they left so fast yesterday. I’ve been a coward up to now.” He sobbed. Marc crawled on the bed and hugged Nick, who seized Marc like a stranded sailor grabs anything that floats. Marc’s brain and tongue failed him, and he said nothing. After a few minutes, Nick quieted. “Marc, do you know how to make that text message thing?” “Yes, Nick.” “Can you text message my son? I have the number.” Marc dug his phone from his pocket and stood. “What should I write?” “Tell Joey I love him and I’m sorry. Tell him I’m dying, and ask if he can come right away, but only if he truly wants to. I don’t want him to do it out of guilt or obligation. Tell that to him. I’ll stay alive long enough to apologize to him.” Marc sent it, and after a few minutes, there was no response. A speaker above the bed came alive, and a soft, woman’s voice asked, “Marc, are you there?” “Yes.” “If you can break free, you’re needed at the nurses’ station.” Marc wiped his eyes. “I’ll be right there.” He bent, gave Nick a hug and cheek kiss. “I have to go. I’ll check in later.” Nick waved him off, hugged a pillow, and cried. At the nurses’ station, Marc called for a chaplain. Dr. Wilson approached him. “How did it go? He knows he’s dying, doesn’t he?” Marc nodded. “You’re taking it real hard. I’m sorry, Marc.” She gripped his forearm with compassion. “It’s my job.” He kept himself busy until his cell phone buzzed. He checked the text message from Nick’s son, and Marc rushed to the dying man’s room. “Nick, I got a reply from your Joey. He’s in town, and his plane just landed. Your wife called him yesterday. He’s on his way here.” Nick smiled and whimpered. “Thank you. I want one of those orders not to revive me.” “I’ll take care of it. Do you want me to call your wife?” “No. I’ve put her through enough. She’s mad at me for not staying quiet. I’ve wanted to talk about it for so long, but she always stymied me. Several times, I said we need to bare our hearts to each other, and she always stymied me, damn it! We’re not even friends. What a hell of a way to live.” An hour later, Joey arrived. Marc briefed him in thirty seconds and led him to his father’s room. Marc left them in a tearful embrace, with Nick mumbling repeatedly, “I’m sorry.” Nick died an hour later, with Marc holding one hand and Joey the other. They cried. In their private backroom, the staff embraced each other. It was always hard to lose someone. Marc filled them in on the estranged son and left out Nick’s coming-out confession. He let the tears flow. At the end of the shift, Marc biked home and trudged through the front door. Adam watched TV. When he lifted his eyes to Marc, Adam asked, “What’s wrong?” Marc threw himself into Adam’s arms and confided the day’s events. Adam took Marc to a quiet dinner and then a long walk on the beach, something that always calmed Marc. Marc wanted to say special words to Adam, but his sentiments didn’t make it to his tongue. Too much family and social indoctrination wouldn’t let him say, “I love you,” to another man.
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