I Am Legend: The First

1

"Good morning, girly."

A light switch flipping and small feet gliding across the floor as the lights above me buzz to life. A nurse's soft voice wishes me a good morning as she takes my hand and drives a needle through the thin skin of my wrist. I twitch. "Here are your pills," she tells me. I don't need to have my eyes open to know she just put a glass of water and about five different colored pills on the cupboard next to me. I have a vivid image of it forming in my mind against my will. A small, round, sweet-faced lady in blue uniform carefully pouring me a glass of water after setting a tiny container of pills next to me. Probably humming.

She often does the same for the person next to me, the one I share a room with, whoever it is. I have been in hospital for months and my ‘roommates’ change quite a lot. This time it's a red haired elderly woman, pale face dotted with moles. Aside from the daily "good morning" or "afternoon", she is quiet.

I fall back into sleep and only take my medicine at 10PM, when I'm fully awake (though not any less sore). My breakfast waits for me on a little portable table next to my  bed. I sit up and pull it closer, careful to mind the needle in the back of my right wrist. It's two triangle sandwiches with slightly toasted bread. I bite into one and savour the taste of mayonnaise, egg, tomato and lettuce filling my mouth.

I finish one of the sandwiches and take a few sips of the orange juice before biting into the other one. The taste invading my mouth again like it's my first bite all over again. I take a moment longer to enjoy the taste before swallowing.

The day is long and slow. I spend it looking out the the window. Drinking water. Going to the bathroom. Eating when it's the time to. Most days my family visits at around 2PM and I talk to them. I haven't touched my phone much in weeks. I only answer calls. My conversations went dry and social media became much less entertaining now that I had much more time on my hands, and I quickly got tired of deep diving in information on my pending death.

"Hello," my mother says, her voice pulling me out of a trance. I close my mouth, gulp and say hello back. She asks me how I feel and I tell her a bit better. I do. My doctor comes in like he always does, with my file in hand. He greets us.

"I take it you're the mother?" he says.
"Yes," my mother agrees.
The doctor is a tall Indian man with a thick beard and round glasses perched on his nose. From all I could tell from his daily visits, he was a very organized and hands-on man. Coming in at the same time as always except for today. He wanted to see my parents today. The name tag on his white coat read: "Dr. P Pillay."

"And where's the father?" he inquires.
"He couldn't make it today," my mother replies.
"Okay, then."
He likes asking random questions while he writes stuff in my file, and often asks me questions too. Though mine are more health related.

After that, he closes the file and asks to speak with my mother in private. They stand outside the room and my hearing is only good enough to hear  but not really understand. I can't make out a single word.

Soft sobbing from my mother ensues for a few short minutes, and Dr Pillay's voice is no longer hushed when he says, "Give them a call. Volunteer."

**********

"What did Dr Pillay say yesterday?" I ask. It's a random question. My mother didn't expect it. Perhaps she thinks I'm still a little confused. "Sorry  no delirium yet," I say, playfully. She doesn't laugh.

"He said there's not much time left for you," she says, her voice cracked and raspy, "He thought I should just give you away to a cancer research lab."

"Why don't you?"
"I don't want you to spend your last days as a test rat for inexistant cures."
"Test rat?"
"Yes," she replies, her face still in a sad and exhausted look, "I called them and they say they think they've found a cure. They want to test it on humans now."
"I want to do it," I say flatly and turn to my mother, "What's the worse that could happen? I'm already dying."