Percy

25 8 8
                                    


©2016, Olan L. Smith


Most of us can look back and remember a person who was selfless and made a difference in the world, and such it was with Percy, a man in a hospital. Percy was a retired bridge builder for the railroad. I was very ill with a mysterious fever in about 1974, and he was my roommate. I was really out of it with a fever of 102 when they wheeled me into the room.

That night, my fever got worse, and it peaked at 105, and I was out of it. In the morning, as it calmed down, he said, "You were pretty bad last night, and we thought you wouldn't make it. You had a close call." This was news to me, as I did not remember anything. But the story is not about me, but about him. Percy had no hands and no legs, but he was full of energy and full of life. He never let on that he was ill or that he might die.

Every morning he would get up, some way or another, get in his wheelchair, and be gone for an hour or so. I asked his wife, "Where did Percy go?"

She would reply, "He is off visiting other people on the ward and cheering them up. He never lets this get him down. They see him and how cheerful he is, and they don't feel so bad." When Percy returned to the room, he would tell me stories of supervising and building bridges for the railroad and never once talk about his woes. He was an amazing person. I left in a few days, and he was still visiting others. That fall in college, I received a letter from his wife telling me Percy had passed away. In it, she said, "I don't know what it is about you, young man, but I know if anyone can tell his story, you will."

Olan L. Smith's Short StoriesWhere stories live. Discover now