SHORT STORY

When Will I Get There? Chasing the Beyond in a Bed and a Head

Fiction

An AI image created by the author in Bing

So, I’m dying. I’m very, very sick and I’ve been expecting it for some time, and yet I still wake up on this damned bed. When will I wake up in Heaven? I’m sure it won’t stink of sweat and disinfectants. I’m really sick of this smell. I’m tired of staring at the wall in front of me, counting every crease and every crack. It seems to have been white once, but now it’s pale grey with dots of brown and yellow on it. Stains of what, I can only guess.

Can this dying thing happen faster, please?

Nurse Anna comes and asks me if I need a sedative. I want to tell her I need a stronger one; one I’ll never wake up from. I think I said this to her three days ago and she urged me to get a grip.

‘You’re a fighter,’ she told me.

Well, I guess I am. My body is very stubborn. I wonder why. It’s rotten all over. By all means, I should be dead already, and yet, somehow, I’m alive. I know what the nurse actually wanted to tell me three days ago. She wanted to tell me, ‘Have a bit more patience.’ She used ‘fighter’ as a synonym for ‘impatient.’ She wanted to tell me that my impatience energizes my body and boosts my immune system, increasing the agony. It seems that the saying is true: ‘The more you…