That Was Yesterday

The friend you’re staying with has a bad headache. The worst ever, she says. She didn’t sleep at all.

After her coffee she starts acting strangely, falls down. You call her doctor.

They can see her at 2. It’s 9. You give her cold compresses. You wait.

You take her to the doctor. You have to hold her very firmly to walk her in. You wait.

The doctor will see her now. The doctor calls the paramedics.

You follow the ambulance to the hospital in her car. You wait.

You wait. You wait.

They take a scan. You wait.

Suddenly there are two doctors and two assistants. They have her do all kinds of things: squeezing hands, touching toes to ankles, following fingers with eyes. Looking at pictures and words: ‘What do you see?’ She is confused.

They are surprised at her capabilities: They’ve seen the scan.

She cannot read.

They check her into hospital. There will be more tests. It is 8. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

You leave, taking her mobile. You ring her sister: There is no one else to call.

You drive her car home and have one more glass of wine than you ought.

You think ‘I suppose she’ll stop smoking now’. She was 58. Now she is 90.

That was yesterday.

This is today.

It is 8. You dress. There are things you must do.

You ring her office, schedule a meeting with her staff. They know she is ill. They don’t know she is ill.

And you haven’t told them yet. You will: There is no one else to do this. She has run this business for 24 years.

It is 9. You’re about to go, but you haven’t done your makeup, but you’re not going to, yet. You’ll put it on at her office, after you’ve told them, otherwise there’d be no point.

After you tell them, you’ll do your makeup, and return to hospital.

This is today.

Anicca.

This was written in ‘real time’, no edit.
I have to go to hospital now.
I’ll talk to you later.
❤ Allison.

The sequel is Requiem for a Friend Not Yet Dead.

Update 1 in the comments.*
Update 2 in the comments.*
Update 3 in the comments.*

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