He is smiling, one eye barely open, the other a little more.
“Look what they gave me”, he says, smiling bigger and slowly fiddling with the pale blue covers of his hospital bed. He reveals his treasure; a large syringe complete with little green lever.
“Let me check if it’s working”, he says, and depresses the lever.
He smiles bigger still. He holds it close to him, checking the tubes, making sure it’s connected.
“I’m concerned about… this little thing”. He points to a gadget. The one controlling the dosage.
“That’s controlling the dosage”.
“That’s what...I’m worried… about” he says, “too much control. It’s… not working… I’m… not…woozy enough”.
He’s fiddling with the lanyard, trying to put his treasure around his neck. “I’m… keeping my morphine… close.” Failing to put it over his head, he covers it carefully with the pale blue covers and pats it lovingly. Then lifts the covers to check that it’s ok. Looks at me. Smiles and says, “I don’t…. think… it’s working.”
He closes his eyes, I touch his hand and his eyes open again. “I can see… three of you”, he mumbles. As I lean in to place kiss upon his cheek, he puts a hand up. “Don’t all bombard me at once! One at a time ladies! Please!”.
I shake my head, laughing. He closes one eye.
“The problem… with seeing three of you… is that… I don’t know… which… is the right one, I could be looking over your shoulder. And… I can’t even ask you to raise your hand, ’cause… all three of you will”. The one eye, still open, joins the other in slumber.
I’m pretty sure it’s working.
