Six Feet Apart (ONC 2022)

Chapter 11 - Daniel

Defeat washes over us nurses as Neil's condition worsens before our eyes. For two days we've watched our friend struggle to breathe, watched him fight to muster the energy to even attempt to raise his arms in protest as we check his vitals. In two days, I have watched a man I've come to admire, become a shell of his former self. 

We had all tested almost immediately after Neil received a positive result. Out of a staff of thirty on this ward, thankfully on three have caught this bastard disease alongside Neil. I know the others feel the mixed emotions I do. The relief that we have somehow evaded it, and the panic that we could be next. Only Neil has succumbed drastically. The others rest at home for fourteen days, following the government guidelines until they can once more put their lives at risk to fight an enemy we cannot see. 

Never before in my career have I even considered my job life threatening. Sure, there has always been a risk of contracting one disease or another, but in contrast that risk is almost non-existent. This, this is something else entirely. Every time I cough, the fear inside me feeds. Growing bigger than my body can possibly contain. Each cough a reminder of what I'm sacrificing. Not just my family and my energy, but my life too. 

Anne steps next to me, leaning against the wall that adjoins the room Neil lays sleeping in. It's the first time she and I have been on the ward together. The first time today there's been a moment of stillness amongst nurses and doctors. Phantom alarms ring in the air; it's becoming difficult for me to discern which are real and which are simply memories I can't evade. 

"It's horrible isn't it?" her voice is barely audible as she fiddles with the engagement ring on a chain around her neck. 

I nod, no words strong enough to convey my thoughts. Horrible doesn't seem appropriate. Horrible is the dinner in the canteen on a Thursday. Or the movies you vow to never watch again. It doesn't quite describe the situation at hand. I wonder if there is even a word that could capture our lives right now. I don't think there is. Then again, I'm not very good with words. That's always been Kate's strong suit.

"He'll make it. He's strong." I'm not sure if she's talking to herself or to me anymore. 

"They've all been strong, in one way or another." My voice is harsh, bitter. I barely recognise it.

Hell, I barely recognise myself anymore. I've not shaved in weeks, my beard unruly and itchy all the time. My clothes are baggier, the bags beneath my eyes have taken over my face. I'm starting to lose hope with each passing second; with each patient wheeled out of their room, white, cotton sheet covering their face. This is our new normal. Life as we know it has been murdered and buried before our eyes. 

Thoughts of home, of Kate and Ebony have been few and far between. I'd let her down when Neil had become ill. I couldn't stomach eating and watching a movie while my friend lay in a hospital bed with no family by his side. She said she understood, that she didn't mind, but the pain in her voice did a poor job at disguising itself. I'd promised her we'd have that date, that tonight I'd leave early and be all hers. I hope I can fulfil that promise. 

"He's coding! We need help in here!" Anne flies through the door, laying the head of Neil's bed back as myself and three other nurses pile into the room. "His breathing's stopped. We need to intubate now." 

Hands scramble, passing a laryngoscope and endotracheal tube into her awaiting hands. She wiggles the laryngoscope before needing the tube into Neil's throat. Wasting no time, I attach a balloon cuff and begin to pump. Come on Neil. Come on mate. We all stare at the machine to his right, waiting and praying that we got to him in time. The steady rhythm finally returns. Thank God! 

"He'd hate this," I whisper to Anne as we slowly herd out of the room, a senior nurse staying behind to monitor him closely. 

"I know, but what choice do we have? He doesn't have a DNR," her eyes close as she leans her head against the desk. "We'll have to keep a close eye on him. You and I both know what happens next. We've seen it enough now."

Her words drip into my veins, as though they're being fed to my body through an IV drip. You and I both know what happens next. Next comes death. More than half of the patients that are wheeled onto this ward need to be intubated. Of that number, significantly more pass within days. But not Neil. It can't happen to him. 

It's one thing watching the life ebb away from someone you've known for a day two. It's something else entirely watching it happen to someone you've worked closely with for weeks, someone who has become a close friend. If Neil dies, I don't know how we'll all cope. He can't die on us! 

There's not much more we can do for Neil right now, and standing around is driving my nerves manic. I need to busy myself. A powerful wave of pain rips through my abdomen, roaring loud for all to hear. A reminder that once again I've forgotten to have breakfast. 

"I'm gonna get some lunch while it's quiet. I should've gone by now anyway. You coming?" I start to walk away, letting Anne fall in line next to me. 

"Thank god it's Friday. Fish and chips sounds like heaven right now." she chuckles softly, playing once more with her engagement ring. 

Despite myself, I laugh. The only good food this hospital makes is its fish and chips. I know Neil loved - loves - the roast on Wednesdays. I see no appeal in soggy roast potatoes and dry meat, but each to their own I guess. Each awful mouthful that has attacked my taste buds these past two weeks, has made me all the more grateful for the packed lunches Kate would prepare early each morning. I haven't the time to make one for myself and so I'm left hungry and dissatisfied. 

Thank God it's Friday.