"It's been 4 weeks, he still hasn't been responding to the medicine," I told Ren, whom I ran into as I was exiting Eric's hospital room. "I was sure that he'd be better by now, we're doing everything we can. We're not gonna give up on him, I can assure you that."
Ren just huffed, looking behind me into the glass panel to see a sleeping Eric. He rubbed his forehead and said, "I'm not understandin', is-is he gon' live?" I could tell he was starting to get angry.
"Uh," I refrained from addressing him as Ren, "Mr. Patterson we're doing everything in our power to keep him active. His immune system has weakened dramatically, we believe he's allergic to the medicine."
"Then stop givin' him the shit!" He started to shout, a few people stared as they scrambled through the halls.
I stammered, "We-we stopped as soon as he slipped in his coma, sir." As much as I wanted to cop an attitude with him, I couldn't. If my best friend was dying, I'd be upset at the world too.
Ren only sighed, and turned his back to me for a quick second before slapping the wall in front of him. "This shit is un-fuckin'-fair yo."
Unsure of what to say or do, I only stared. I was afraid if I had said any more, his anger would grow. I leaned against the door, hugging my chest. As a doctor, for sexual transmitted diseases at that, I witnessed several lives being eaten away by devastation. But this time; it was different. I was so accustomed to the thought of NWA being on the other side of the tv screen, and inside my speakers; them being right here in their darkest moment was unreal.
My eyes dropped down to the floor for a quick second, until an extra pair of shoes appeared. I looked up to see Ice Cube, giving Ren a quick hug. "He's still not doin' good?" Cube asked, glancing at me for a second.
"Naw, man, that medicine ain't doin' shit for him. Ren bluntly stated.
"You guys can go see him, if you'd like," I stepped aside from the door, and they hesitated before stepping inside. I pulled the door close and left to the lab.
When I arrived no longer than 60 seconds later, the lab workers were running tests and scattered all about with work. I approached one of them, Keith, was his name. "What's Eric's latest blood work say? Khadijah did take it this week, right?" I said, pulling my loose ponytail up into a low bun.
"He's really sick, Kuneka. We need to try something else." He passed me the test results. Skimming over them, it was nothing but bad news. I just shook my head slowly, "He's still infected with HIV; not AIDS. We still have time to save him." I tried to bring some hope into the matter.
Keith pondered over my previous statement, "Yeah, but we have to do something now, or we won't have any time at all. If we give him integrase, it could boost the medicines effeciency."
I nodded,"Try that. I told this man that he wouldn't die here." The only reason I promised Eric that he wouldn't spend his last days here because I was sure that the medicine would've worked. In my 6 years of treating HIV, I think I'd know a thing or two about regimes. Either something wasn't right, or I had made a mistake somewhere.
It had been a long night. We had been running multiple tests, and analyzing blood samples and checking up on Eric constantly. My train of thought was derailed dramatically when Khadijah told me time was running out, "What? He can't die from HIV, Khadijah. What're you trying to tell me?" I shrieked.
"He has mere hours to live, Kuneka. He's had full blown AIDS for a couple days now, did they not tell you? It's moving quickly, his immune system is getting weaker as we speak," Khadijah said, fidgeting her fingers nervously.
I was enraged, not only did they hold back vital information from me, but it was far too late to formulate a new prescription for him. Even if I focused intently and moved at the speed of light, there was no way I could save this man tonight. But I remembered; we cured a child of AIDS.
"Keith," I said to him,"get me the treatment you used for the little boy." This was our last hope, if this didn't work, then my solid promise would crumble.
Keith just looked at me, as if he was unsure of something, "Are you sure? We used Zerit and Iodine for the little boy, a really low dosage of it as well."
"Well get the strongest dosage!" I accidentally shouted at him. I wasn't trying to be mean, but all the uncertaincy was nerve wrecking. We needed all the help we can get when it came to helping this man become healthy.
Khadijah and Keith fetched the other lab workers to go into the medicine archive and do whatever they could to conduct the exact medicine they gave the kid. Knowing that Eric has AIDS as of right now threw me off, but I didn't have time to get angry. We had someone's life at the end of our fingertips.
It was now 2:00 am, and we all scrambled to ready the syringes and prepare the medicine. I emptied a bottle into the syringe, and I was off to Eric's room.
He looked terrible, peekid, sickly. Eric lost color, and he was losing weight due to lack of appetite. As his chest rose up and down, I wondered what he dreamt about in the past 4 days. Probably of much better days, and more fruitful oppurtunities. I gently took his arm, sterilized it with alcohol, and slowly injected him with the regimen.
And now we wait. We wait for him to respond to it; and with luck, he'd emerge from his coma. Or show signs that it's working. If it cured someone, I'd expect it to work faster than usual.
The IV monitor sped up gradually, which was a good thing.
I couldn't remember what happened next, but I awoke with a terrible back ache, and my legs were crunched up in a chair. I was still in the hospital room, so I must've sat down and fell asleep on accident. The sun was making it's way through the window, so it must've been early.
Then it hit me: Eric! I lift my head up in search of finding him either awake, or show some signs of healthiness, but he was gone.
