Just Fluff and Stuff

My Heart Will Go On

I was putting the finishing touches on my sunset piece just as the nurse came through the door. I smiled and flipped the magazine I was using shut. I tucked my charcoal away carefully and put my art supplies next to the magazine stack on the table next to me.

"Hey Ken, how are you feeling today?" She asked me kindly. It was the beginning of her shift and she didn't know that I had been up for most of the night drawing again.

"Same as usual Mary." I tried for a cheery tone but I could hear the exhaustion of my voice regardless. I watched as she jotted down notes on her clipboard regarding all the machines that blipped, beeped, flickered and flashed numbers next to my bed.

"What've you been drawing?" She then asked as she worked, glancing at my art supplies. She put a stethoscope to my back and then my chest to double check my lungs and breathing.

"Mum brought me a new magazine on the tropics. I just finished a nice sunset. One day I am going to go and see it for myself." I said the last part wistfully with a look towards the door.

"You bet honey. Keep that positive attitude and I just know you can do it." She patted my shoulder. She was one of the younger nurses. The older nurses and doctors had seen too many people like me to dare say such encouraging words. They sounded too much like promises.

Some days I felt like I was doing it all just to make the people around me feel better. If I was happy and cheerful then they would act happy and cheerful around me so they didn't spoil my 'good mood'. It kept them off my back and me out of therapy sessions.

It also kept a strong supply of art supplies coming so I didn't get bored sitting around my hospital room. Let's face it, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. I was sick, broken, whatever you want to call it. I was too fragile to walk, run, or play like other normal people.

My heart was going to quit on me, but they had no idea when. I had weeks or months before I was supposed to go critical and I had to have a surgery or I was going to die. They were looking for a donor now, but my chances were slim. I still tried to be positive and hopeful about the whole thing.

I wanted to travel. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to go to school and be with other kids my own age. I wanted to fall in love and have a family. I wanted to get a boring small house and a boring small car. Not even a sports car, just a little family go-getter or something.

I wanted to eat ice cream in any other flavours than chocolate or vanilla, because that is all they had on the menu at the hospital.

I saw my future like an unfinished drawing that I was just itching to complete but wasn't sure if I would. I saw my family start to lose hope and tiptoe around me as the sand in the virtual hourglass of my life ran out. I heard the pity in their tone as they watched me make plans I might never fulfill.

As if I cared about that. If you have nothing to live for then you really will give up and die. I had that though, something to live for.

I opened my book up to an empty page after the nurse left and flipped through the magazine looking for something new to draw. I stopped on a garden scene with white draped loungers. It looked so bright and relaxing a place. I wondered what the sound of the ocean was like.

I smiled happily and picked up my pencil. I started sketching out the proportions of the foliage and the loungers, humming to myself. Suddenly the door to my room crashed open and a tall boy with black hair and angry green eyes came storming into my room.

"Can I hide in here?" He demanded loudly. I nodded wordlessly and watched as he huffed and flopped into one of my chairs.

"Who are you hiding from?" I asked curiously. He glared at the door.