The Lifeline in Graveyard Rooms

Written by: phionne and Havoc

Under the scorching amber of the sunrays and the soft rustling of the wind, an old lady was about to take her last breath on earth. However, the God above must have thought she wasn’t set to join the heavens yet and chose to alter her fate at the last moment.

…

The old lady awoke to the faint beeping of a life’s emblem as she gasped for air, desperate for a breath of existence. Baffled and a bit adrift, she observed her foreign surroundings, noticing a transparent vessel of liquid embedded into the front of her hand with a tube. Attempting to rise from her rest, she clutched the pouch’s metal stand and the wooden cane leaning on the wall and took her leave. The lady strolled the gray-marbled floor, her eyes squinting from the well-lit ceilings and unending white corners of the unfamiliar place. With every step, the whiff of rubbing alcohol wafted through the air, a clash from the stench of demise drifting from the graveyard rooms.

As the old lady continued to tread the long hallway, she heard a voice from the small television mounted on the wall.

COVID-19, a highly contagious disease that originated from the SARS-CoV-2 virus, is flipping the world upside down. It primarily spreads through respiratory droplets, and most individuals experience mild to moderate symptoms, while some develop severe complications, particularly those with underlying health conditions. Cases in the country are continuously rising, with 84 provinces having an increased positivity rate. Everyone is sternly advised to stay indoors and follow all the preventive measures.

Moving forward, Filipino frontliners continue to face significant challenges, including high patient-to-nurse ratios, inadequate pay, and insufficient personal protective equipment, given the current shortage in the country’s health industry funding.

Before she could even take in the rest, a mesh of mourning and cries began to pierce her ears.

“No! I can’t die yet! My children need me!”

“What do you mean I’m going to die?”

“Doc, please do something!”

“I’m the only one earning money for our family! What’s going to happen to them if I die?”

“The patient died right before my eyes! How do you expect me to react? I could have done more, I swear, I could have done more. This is all my fault!”

The old lady halted in her tracks upon grasping the grieving wails of a certain nurse. Perhaps it may have brought her back to the days when she was in the nurse’s shoes, tending to the wounds of her friends’ flesh and soul. Her home served as their safe haven — with prayers, love, and encouragement it carried, this became a refuge from the wreckage of their village.

The nurse, with a heart heavy from her patient’s death, felt a sudden shift in the air. She turned her head to the right and saw an old lady gazing at her with a face of sorrow and warmth. She effaced the endless tears leaking from her swelling eyes and closed a bit of her distance from the lady.

“Ma’am, what are you doing here? Do you need some assistance?” The nurse asked, somehow confused. “Please provide me with your room number so I can accompany you back to your room.”

The old lady, together with the nurse, returned to her chamber.

“Let’s get you back on your bed, ma’am.” The nurse helped the old lady settle down once they had arrived, lifting her feet onto the bed and pulling the sheets up to her waist. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you very much, hija.” The nurse settled the lady’s cane to the side of the bed.

The room was very much the generic picture of a hospital: a stuffy, reclining mattress, a bedside table with a few stacked books gathering dust on top, a dripping IV pole, and a wall-mounted television that would usually play channels — if the signal was able to go through the concrete walls of the facility. The nurse approached the bedside and took out the cuff.

“Let’s check your blood pressure, ma’am.” The nurse enfolded the cuff around the lady’s upper left arm and slipped the stethoscope’s disk under its edge.

It was odd, however, as the old lady settled her hand over the nurse’s while the nurse wore the earpiece. She wanted to remind her that any unnecessary physical contact was unallowed, but her gaze made her hold her tongue.

“Hija,” she called with a certain youthful twinkle in her eyes, all kind and knowing. “I think I like you.”

“Hmm?” The nurse found herself dumbfounded. Looking at her expression, the lady belted out a cackle that bounced off the walls; it wouldn’t be a surprise if the entire floor heard her. The nurse stood in confusion while this old but somewhat jolly woman continued to laugh at her.

The nurse’s right arm received a playful smack as the old lady wiped the tears streaming from her eyes. She waved her hand around and asked, “Hija, why do all these things? Why help these people?”

For a moment, she was lost for words. “Because it’s my job, ma’am.”

“Is that all?” The old lady replied with her eyebrows raised. “From what I’ve gathered, a contagious and life-threatening disease has been spreading like wildfire in our nation, and you’re on the frontlines fighting this fight. You should give yourself more credit.”

“It helps pay the bills.” A line that the nurse has said many times before for the sake of conversation. But this time, against her. “And, well…” The old lady looks at the nurse expectantly.

“The people here need me,” the nurse declared with a little hint of pride in her voice.

“Don’t be embarrassed, hija!” The old lady offered a wide grin. “You’re doing God’s work. Bless you.”

“One-ten over eighty, ma’am.” The nurse removed the cuff from her arm and put away the equipment. “Anything else, ma’am?”

She heard no response from her charge, but when she raised her head, she saw the old lady staring outside with a distant expression.

“You know, I was kind of like you — a nurse, I mean. We used to be in a period of great change and danger. Albeit the context is different, I’d reckon a sick patient in bed knowing that something inside of them is putting their lives on a tightrope…” The old lady was squeezing her eyes shut, her lips slightly trembling. When she opened them, a few tears dropped to her cheek. The sunlight that reflected from her eyes seemed to dim down. “…could feel just as if they were in a car crash. Just in slow motion.”

“Fear.” She turned to face the nurse. “What a terrible feeling to experience! When you start to believe that you have no control over your well-being and each day is filled with worry about the safety of your brothers, sisters, and loved ones…”

“But the people needed you, right?” A knowing smile tugged at the corner of the lady’s mouth, her eyes sparkling once more.

“From my years of experience, I’ve come to realize that bandaging people up and nursing their wounds does not only heal the flesh. But by being there for them and listening to their stories, you give them something else… something powerful.”

“And what is that, ma’am?”

She glanced back at the glass window, seemingly distant from the hospital room. “I’ll take my leave, ma’am. I still need to attend to other patients.” The nurse walked straight towards the door.

“Hope.”

Even with the nurse’s back facing the door, she found herself grinning. As she was about to take her leave, she remembered that she had forgotten to ask the lady’s name.

“Ma’am, I didn’t quite catch your — ” She turned around only to find the room empty. The bed was made with no trace of anyone’s presence. She flipped her clipboard open and skimmed through her notes. There, on the patient’s information list, was a name she’d only read from her history books. A great woman from the past that could never have been alive at this moment in time, but was here nonetheless. During times of turmoil and hardship, she was there to put a bandage on your wound.

Melchora Aquino.