PULL THE PLUG

8

"We are unable to remove the metal from her torso." Dr. Sweeney flipped an x-ray into the backlit x-ray viewer and pointed to a black dot the size of an apple just below Alexa's right breast." If we did that, we would kill your wife." She paused and moved her finger to another part of the x-ray. "The bones in your wife's upper body are fractured and broken, and at points turned to gravel. I have to be blunt, Mr. Herrington. It is a miracle that she is still alive."

"What are you saying, Doc?" Ron had to sit down, dreading the answer that would turn the legs that pumped away tons in a single workout into rubber.

"On addition, your wife suffered severe burns," Sweeney said as she walked from the x-ray back to her chair, "third-degree burns affecting almost fifty percent of her body." She paused. "I am not telling you this to torture you, I am doing it to underline the immense pain your wife is suffering." Sweeney paused again, her eyes scanning the office walls. Office walls decorated with doctoral degrees and other ornamented documents meant to inspire confidence in her abilities as a medical professional. Her eyes stopped on one that was meant to inspire her. It read: I shall do my patients as I would be done by; shall obtain consultation whenever I or they desire; shall include them to the extent they wish in all important decisions; and should minimize suffering whenever a cure cannot be obtained, understanding that dignified death is an important goal in everyone’s life. A modern interpretation of the hippocratic oath.

"Mr. Herrington," Sweeny cleared her throat. "I hope you believe me when I say that we have tried everything to save your wife, but we have exhausted our options. As for now, there is not much time left, so I have to be frank: we can wake her up one more time for you to say goodbye."

The vein in Ron's neck was about to burst, he tried to say something, but his lips dried up so fast that he feared sand would come out when he opened them.

He was preparing to get up when Sweeny walked around the table and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Even though it looked like a toddler's hand on a soccer ball, Ron couldn’t move.

"I know this is a lot. But we're here to help," Sweeney said.

Ron's eyes filled with water, his chest tightened and he was relieved that he was sitting because he thought he was going to faint. He looked down at his shoes to hide the tears. There was no hiding the fact that Ron was on the edge. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, like a volcano about to erupt.

He managed a weak "Okey". And then the floodgates opened and the emotions came with unrelenting force, and it was okay, it brought relief. Sweeney's hand moved from Ron's shoulder to his back, where it showed support with all the maternal care in the world. The image: a mountain of a man crying in the arms of a pebble of a woman.

9

Ron and Sweeney took the elevator to the third floor. To keep his mind from spiraling out of control, Ron studied a map of the hospital that was conveniently placed on the wall to his right. It looked like a subway map with colored lines leading to different destinations. The same colored lines were found on the floors throughout the hospital to help you find your way through the maze.

"We're taking the red line," Sweeny said, breaking the stifling silence that likes to creep in when riding an elevator with strangers.

Ron traced the red line with his pinky and saw that it terminated at the ICU.

 "Your wife is in good hands in intensive care.  They are a great team. Best of the best." Sweeney reassured.

The elevator gave a slight jolt, then there was a bing and the doors opened. Feeling like a man in a dream Ron stepped out. He followed the doctor down a long corridor and had the strange sensation that he was still in the elevator. But it was not the movement of the floor or the walls, it was the weakness in his knees and the terror in his mind that made the hallway feel like a bouncy castle. His senses screamed danger and sharpened: Sweeney's shoes squeaked on the vinyl floor. Each step was louder than the one before and almost drove him mad. Calm down, was the last clear thought he had before it was toppled by an onslaught of countless other thoughts that turned the internal chatter into white noise. And even though the hospital was nice and cool, Ron's sweat glands were working overtime - it was becoming unbearable.

“Here we are,” Sweeny said and grabbed the door handle to Alexa’s room.

Ron nodded absently and entered. As the door closed behind him and he saw Alexa in the hospital bed with tubes going in and out of her body, his emotions felt oddly subdued, oddly mild. He closed his eyes and hoped this was all just a bad dream and that he would wake up and find Alexa's face next to him in bed. But when he opened them, he saw no delicate features, but bruises on swollen flesh wrapped in zebra stripes by the midday sun that broke through the blinds. And even though it was noon, the room seemed darker than it should be.

"I'll wake her up for you," Sweeney said, taking a hypodermic, "but she's heavily sedated. She could be way out there." Sweeney attached the syringe to the cannula in Alexa's vein and administered the wake-up juice.

Ron stood on the other side of the bed, holding and looking at Alexa's hand. He dared not look up and into her face. Sweeney walked around the bed and tried to put her hand on Ron's shoulder, but she couldn't reach it, so she settled for his forearm instead.

"I will leave you two alone now. Take your time. I will be waiting outside." 

Sweeney squeaked the few meters to the door, and then there was only the distant and muted beep of the heart monitor. Besides the small monitor array and the IV, the room was sparsely furnished. A chair, an end table and a lavatory with a small mirror hanging over it. At first Ron was spooked by the ghost looking at him, then repulsed when he realized it was his own pale face staring back at him.

He focused again on Alexa's hand and the small mole on her ring finger, just below the knuckle. If not for that little blemish, he would not have believed it was his wife. He rubbed the mole with his thumb as if it were Aladdin's magic lamp, in the vain hope that the Jin would pop out and grant him three wishes. Instead, Alexa's eyes twitched and a moan escaped her cracked lips.

"Hey, baby," Ron said softly, moving closer. All fear was gone as he looked at the disfigured face that was his wife. He felt brave and a glimmer of hope.

"Ronny, is that you?" her voice came out dry.

"Yeah baby, it's me." He took the sippy cup from the nightstand, "Here, drink this."

With her eyes still closed, she took a weak sip, spilling most of it down her neck. Ron whipped the water from her chin. He felt helpless again and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm so tired, Ronny. Can I sleep just five more minutes?"

Ron ran his hand through Alexa's hair, "Of course baby, you rest and I..." He choked up and had to fight back the tears, "I'll make lasagna while you chill on the couch watching your stupid housewives."

"Ronny's lasagna is the best," she said, opening her eyes a little. "Why are you looking so sad, honey?" Alexa reached up and he came closer so she could touch his face and wipe away a tear. The bulge on her chest turned red like an inkblot test. She pulled her hand back in agony with another faint groan.

"It's okay," he said. "It's this damn allergy."

"Did you touch Mrs. Hartford's cat again?" she asked.

"Busted," he returned.

"You're so cute." She smiled but time was ticking. She would soon lose consciousness. "Just five minutes. Okay?"

Tears streamed down Ron's cheeks like hot lava. He kissed his wife on the forehead, the cheeks, the neck and a long kiss goodbye on the lips, "Rest up baby girl, I love you".

Alexa's head was tilted to the side and her eyes were closed, but with the remaining life force she raised her arms and made two fists. She extended both middle fingers and said: "I love you too." 

The heart rate monitor counted two more beats - and flatlined. 

10

The sound faded slowly, and with it, time froze for Ron. Not completely, just about 0.2 times slower than normal. Sweeney and two nurses burst into the room. You could see the urgency in their faces, but they moved as if the air was made of jell-o. Ron moved at normal speed and gave way so the specialists could do their routine dance, unnecessary but protocol dictated. He just stood there, unable to take his eyes off the flatline. And from the deepest darkest corners of his mind rose a hellish sentence: 

(It's all your fault!)