Michele Mock

Mrs. S. Aiken

English 1101 – Descriptive Essay

September 2, 2009


RECEIVING BAD NEWS

Taking a trip around the world would have been quicker than the drive from the doctor’s office to the hospital, though they were only three blocks apart. The boy had a vampire’s complexion as well as the feeling and symptoms of having the stomach flu. We were sent to have more extensive testing done, CT scans, blood work as well as to get medications for the unstoppable and uncontrollable nausea. 

As we walked into the already claustrophobic room it seemed to burst at the seams. Machines were brought in by the nurses and techs, along with all the family members who squeezed into every inch of space still available. The mix of aftershaves, perfumes and antiseptic cleaner made me nauseated, although it could have also been the fear of the unknown. The tick of the clock on the wall keeping time with the hum of the IV and the buzz that came from all the chatter of the visitors would have made a football arena seem quieter. When the boy stretched out into the bed it was still enormous in the cramped space. A dump truck parked in a Volvo parking space had nothing on the bed in this room. The boy was of larger build than most kids his age of thirteen years but his size still had an opposite effect; he looked much smaller in comparison, a flea on a queen size mattress.

It was an orchestra out of tune with the tick tick tick of the clock, the steady hum of the IV, chatter and TV. The carefully choreographed shift change of the nurses came and went along with most of the family members and other visitors. The air began to thin and breathing became unlabored. I was the only one to stay since the immediate danger had been resolved, still serious but not life threatening, when the ideas and diagnoses started to filter in from the nurses.

Sitting in the small room with him was serene almost too peaceful, mother and child bonding as if he were a new born. I washed his face with a cool rag and held his hand that was soft and warm. We talked endlessly about what was playing on TV and the fun he had on his hunting trip with his brother and dad. Since my mind was full of many what ifs, the conversation was a monolog by him as I tried to input the correct oh, okay and that’s neat were it should go. With him drifting off to sleep the tick tick ticking of the clock and hum of the IV became deafening.

The turn of the door knob finally broke into the stillness as his doctor walked in with sleepless eyes and shoulders that belonged to an elderly woman suffering from many years of scoliosis. Even the tick of the clock seemed to cease with fear of what was coming with the entrance of this frail and unknowing doctor who just yesterday could have played quarterback on any football team. The silence was finally broken by words that never should have to be spoken, “mom, can I speak to you outside for a moment”. The ever silence returned except for the screaming, it took me a second to realize it was me screaming in my head. My book fell to the floor, mouth and eyes wide with fright from what had not yet been spoken but was so evident it was more frightening then any horror movie ever made. The bile rose into my throat.

With a face of someone who just won the lottery and a Mona Lisa smile gone awry , I walked back into the room to tell my son I had to go down stairs and call his dad. He had the same deer caught in headlights stare, but even more disturbing was the underlying fear and terror, almost bed of nails torture, on his face. I reassured him as best I could but he was very observant, one who knows when a knick knack has been moved or removed from a shelf, his only words were “I know it cannot be good because doctors on TV never call you out of the room for good news”. Goose bumps raised the hair on the nape of my neck as I left the room to make the call. I could have committed murder, adultery even the sin of death and not felt as selfish or as guilty for not telling him the truth immediately.

When his dad arrived back at the hospital we decided to tell our son what was going on, knowing the end of the world was coming would have been easier. As we told our son he had a malignant brain tumor the terror and fear begin to melt like butter from his face. The now one-year-old face looking at me was almost more then I could bear. His words were inspiring, “its okay, now we know and we can get through it whatever it takes”. Even though we all knew we had a very long road ahead of us the room suddenly became larger, lighter and energetic as I realized the sounds I heard was laughter coming from my son, his dad and even myself. We hugged and just held each other the warmth of our skin and the beating of our hearts was comforting. The last of his words became our motto for the entire family “whatever it takes”.