Bitter till the End

My name is Frankie Sweets and I am stuck rotting away in this hell known as hospice. Each and everyday, I have to see the same stupid faces and I have to deal with my foreign thickly accented roommate. She is in the bed next to me, the white curtain separated us like the Berlin wall and I liked it that way. The only thing I can’t block out is the blaring TV she turns on every morning at 6 AM. Why does she insist on watching the news anyway? We’re all going to be worm food soon anyhow, why bother watching the news?

When she turns on her TV, I stare up at the ceiling fantasizing of how I will die and be taken away from this misery. I’m an 85 year old man with a terminal illness, there was never a point to me to continue to live. Will my heart just stop beating? Will I choke on this nasty muck they serve us throughout the day? Someone could even place a pillow over my face to suffocate me and all I would do is congratulate them.

My thoughts were interrupted by an all too familiar voice; my roommate. She shouted over at me as if I couldn’t hear, I may be old but my hearing is still there.

“Hey Sweets, you up?” She chuckled because she already knew my answer.

“Yup, you wake me up every morning.” Why did she find this so funny?

She knows I’m miserable and I hate to have short or long conversations; any conversation really. She continued to shout over at me, discussing what was on the news, telling me what her family was going to bring her for lunch today and saying how she was going to move around the halls to get out of her bed. I never bothered responding to her, I just gave her a lot of “Uh huh” and more of the “That’s nice.” What do I care what she’s going to do today?

I never bothered with my family, I was a single man and I preferred it that way. I don’t care about my brother’s kids or pretending I care about him and his spouse. To me, family is just a waste of time and when you’re sick, they just pretend they care for a few months then, they leave you to rot. I never wanted to care about anyone else but myself. You don’t have the worry of disappointing others or dealing with awkward family dynamics. Always having someone yell at you or talking about the silly day to day things.

My brother and I had a bit of an age difference, he is in his early 60s and has so many responsibilities. Dealing with his nagging wife, his kids going off to college and of course money problems. Who would want to live like that? That to me is such a waste of time when you can just live how you want when you’re alone.

I closed my eyes at some point when I was pondering these thoughts and I was rudely awoken to the sound of my neighbors family. They come at the same time everyday, right at 12 PM. I believe they were her kids and their slew of little ones. They’re so loud, always bringing some weird looking food that smells of various spices and to me looks like dung. They discuss what has been going on in their day, gossip about annoying family members and fill the room with such an exasperating presence.

While the family is preoccupying the space, my nurse comes in with my medication and a disgusting display of food on a tray. A slimy green jello, a cold cut sandwich with old lunch meat and milk. I drink the milk with my medication and only can stomach the sandwich that I split in half.

My neighbor’s company always says a prayer before they head out which leaves them teary eyed, but my neighbor only tells jokes and ignores their tears to try to make them laugh. As they leave, she grabs her creaky walker and slowly shuffles toward the door to leave. She turns to me and always asks if I want to go with her, I decline each and every time. Again, why would I want to talk to her? What would we even talk about? When or how soon are we going to die?

I scoff at her and she just laughs cheerfully as she goes for her daily walk. Finally, peace and quiet, I can enjoy watching some silly day time television in complete silence. No one to bother me or obnoxious family members who are too emotional for their own good. Suddenly, my nurse rushes in and I look at her filled with annoyance.

“What?” I scowled at her and she informed me of what she wanted to speak to me about.

“Mr. Sweets, your brother would like to speak to you, he said you haven’t talked to him in 5 months now.” I rolled my eyes at her and grumbled, “Tell him I’m dead.” The nurse froze and her facial expression had shifted into worry and sympathy.

“Mr. Sweets, he calls everyday, I think you really shoul-″ I cut her off and waved my hand at her to leave.

The nurse walked away and I heard her tell my brother on the phone outside my room, that I was napping and I couldn’t talk to him at the moment. Why do I want to talk to my brother? I don’t want to hear about his kids or his life stresses, I just want to be left alone. What do I care about his stupid life inconveniences? My neighbor shuffled back in with her nurse and the nurse assisted her in the bathroom. She needed help with taking a shower and sometimes help going to the bathroom. Why bother leaving the bed to do these things? When you are in the casket, no one is going to care when the last time you showered was.

I tell my nurse I don’t want to be assisted in the shower and would rather use a bedpan in the bathroom. I have to shower at least twice a week due to possible health concerns that could be a problem for my current health. They forced this rule on me and I just abide by this so they can never bother me throughout the day like my neighbor. I hear my neighbor and the nurse laughing, chatting and just having their own private party in there.

With this, I turn the volume up on my TV to cancel out their irritating blabbing. Once she’s done, her nurse prominently guides her to the bed and assists her into it. Once the nurse leaves of course she starts talking to me again.

“Ya know Frank, you should try to shower more often, it truly invigorates the soul!” I just groan at her response and she begins to laugh at me once more.

She then starts to tell me about what her family brought her today and what her kids were doing. I feel like I got kidnapped and secretly adopted into this family listening to these endless stories about nothing.

Once she settled into her bed, it was late afternoon and usually she is kinda quiet around this time. She starts to crochet and makes all kinds of different things such as huge wooly blankets, uniquely printed scarves or socks that she gives to her family. She usually finishes a piece within a few hours or it may even take her a couple days. I love when she occupies her time like this because it is finally silent.

I flip my TV off and once again drift into sleep since that is the only activity I enjoy these days. My nurse comes by to wake me up for dinner at 6:30 PM and all I can do is just get frustrated. I always dream about just dying in my sleep and when these broads come to wake me up, it’s just yet another reminder that I am still just existing.

Dinner is always like a lottery, it’s either a fresh hot meal or something that has just been sitting out for a bit too long. Unfortunately, the lottery tonight is not something I would consider a win. Cold mashed potatoes with gravy, either some sort of chicken or turkey breast that’s been pounded to death, more milk and a store brand cookie. I can only stomach the mashed potato and cookie because the odd looking late meat was left to be desired.

As I begin to eat my slop, my neighbor leans over to grab her noisy walker and wheels over to me. Her skin is as dark as night, her head is wrapped in some colorful scarf and she is wearing the typical hospital monkey suit we all have to wear. She held up a pair of socks that were navy blue with a wavy strip of white in the middle.

“These are for you Mr. Sweets, I wanted you to have something. Can’t believe it was just today I realized I hadn’t given you something I made after all this time!” I couldn’t not take them, so I just gave her a half smile and thanked her.

Her wrinkly face motioned into a smile and she shuffled back to her bed. I jammed the socks into the side of my bed, I didn’t want to put them on quite yet. They felt like itchy material and I didn’t want to be rude, but I hate wearing socks typically. I didn’t like the feeling of them and as I got weaker with my sickness, I don’t have the energy to even put them on.

Time passed and my TV flicked back on. I just started to watch whatever nonsense was on. My nurse again ran in about the same issue as before with my brother calling, I again shooed her away. I don’t want to talk to my brother, leave me be. What does he want to visit me for anyway? Just to be a blubbering idiot about his brother who’s about to die? Reminisce on the good ole days?

That is something I was never in the mood for. As it rolled around to be 9 PM, my roommate started to read from her bible. She started speaking her language and I just wanted her to go to bed. I felt we were husband and wife and we got to the point in our marriage where anything bothers us. She read it for a half hour and started to joke with me like she always did before bed.

“Frankie, I always found it funny your last name was Sweets because to be honest, you’re nothing like that. You’re the typical grumpy old man the kids are afraid of!” I grumbled at her and didn’t bother with a response.

She chuckled once more and still began to poke fun at me. “Goodnight Sweets, I’ll be waking you up right at 6 AM tomorrow as usual with the news! I know how much you love it.”

With that she started to settle into bed for the night and I began to do the same. She said one more thing before she officially drifted.

“You know Frankie, I know everyone else is afraid of death or waiting to die in a place like this. During these moments for me though, I truly appreciate every experience I have with my family, my nurses and even you. I just wanted you to know.”

I ignored her and just kept my eyes shut and I assume she went to bed because she stopped talking. The next morning, I woke up later than usual. It was 8 AM and I wasn’t abruptly awoken by the sound of the TV. That sound that had daunted me for the past 5-6 months. I looked around and her side seemed empty and her walker was missing. By 8:30 AM, my nurse had come by and I asked about my neighbor.

“What happened to the Miss next to me? Did she go on a stroll or something?” The nurse gave me a very grave expression and cleared her throat before answering. “She died this morning at 6 AM. Her nurse came to check in on her when she didn’t hear the TV down the hall. She checked her pulse and she had passed on.”

I couldn’t comprehend what the nurse had said to me. That woman who has been by my side since I got here, was gone like that overnight? After my nurse left, the silence truly started to frighten me. Usually my neighbor would’ve had something to say to me or start babbling on and on about something; anything really. I didn’t know what we had for breakfast today because I was still processing what the nurse had told me.

Why did I feel like this? Like I cared about this woman? My bitter heart was something that I kept guarded and I didn’t want anyone to ever see me weak which is why I hate that I am sick now. I prolonged my stare at our blank white walls because I just couldn’t deal with this deafening silence and staring at the wall was all I felt I could do to pass the time. Why did someone like her have to die and someone as cruel as me still had to live?

This wasn’t fair; what about her family that would come in with food and stories to fill her day? Her slight jabs at random points in the day? I realized also in these drowning thoughts, I never caught her name. Did she tell me? Did I ever bother to ask? These thoughts swirled in my mind like a tornado. The room felt like it was beginning to spin and I just felt so empty. Did I really actually enjoy this woman’s company and I didn’t want to admit to myself I cared about her?

I always had her schedule memorized down pact, maybe I was invested in her stories and her light hearted jokes. I never took the time to realize that I did truly care for her and I just let my impeding selfishness get the better of me.

As my mind continued to wonder, my nurse came rushing in. She once again had the same message for me, like she did every day. It was 12 PM after all, my brother always calls me around lunch time.

“Your brother wants to talk to you urgently Mr. Sweets, should I tell him you can’t come to the phone?” I gripped the socks that my now deceased neighbor made for me and I swallowed this lump in my throat.

I didn’t want to show any sort of emotion toward the nurse and with this, I gave her an answer that she was too stunned to believe.

“Hand me the phone, I’ll talk to him.” The nurse looked at me with astonishment and it took her a second to process what I had said. Without questioning me, she handed me the hospital phone and disappeared faster than a rocket.

I held the phone for a few moments before I put my ear to the receiver. I needed to realize through my neighbor, my outlook on life was shrouded in meaninglessness. My whole life I only lived for myself and pushed the people who cared for me out of my life due to my own self absorbed ideals. I needed to re-evaluate life and to fill it with purpose; even if it is a short lived one. I can either be that guy who has no one come to his funeral or be someone who has a crowd of people pouring their hearts out to me.

“Hi George, it’s Frank, how are ya?”