What a Catch - Phan

Final Chapter

I was sat in my car, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.  The traffic jam wasn't subsiding, and I was starting to get impatient. Phil's operation had taken four hours and finished an hour ago, so I decided to leave half an hour ago, knowing that it only took me about fifteen minutes to get to the hospital. I didn't want to overwhelm him so I waited for a while. Besides, I never knew when he was going to wake up. I was fine waiting. However, not this kind of waiting. By waiting, I meant that I would be perfectly fine sat by Phil's bed, his hand in mine, waiting for the anaesthesia to wear off so he could wake up. I most definitely wasn't fine with waiting in a stupid traffic jam whilst my husband could be waiting for me to come to the hospital to visit him. I tried to stand up a little in the car to see if I could see the front of the queue to no avail. I groaned, sitting back down again and getting my phone out to check the time.

15:48. I clicked the power button, happy to see that the traffic was finally clearing a bit, leaving me able to drive at about two miles per hour for about half a mile until I turned off the main road into a quieter road where I was able to drive at a faster pace. Before long, I arrived at a zebra crossing, seeing an elderly couple cross it in front of me. I smiled, thinking that Phil and I could be like that.

Until death do us part, I thought, imagining us together as an old couple, slowly crossing the road, not letting the other out of our sight. However, we still had many years until we were like that, and the more time the couple in front of me took to cross the road, the more impatient I got. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, willing the pair to speed up, staring at them as if I could affect the speed that they were going at just by looking at them. A minute or two later, they had crossed the road, and I continued driving to the hospital. As soon as I got there, I quickly bought a ticket before rushing into the hospital to Phil's room. A doctor was just leaving it.

"Mr Howell?" He asked. I nodded. "I'm afraid the operation didn't go as well as planned. Philip reacted badly to the medicine, and I'm sorry to say that there's nothing else we can do. If you want, you can go in there, but I fear it will be the last time. We can't do anything to help him now, I'm sorry. I warn you, the sight is upsetting." He said gravely. My heart stopped. I felt tears fill my eyes and I couldn't swallow the lump in my throat. I nodded again, pushing past the doctor into Phil's room.

"Phil?" I asked quietly. Phil opened his eyes, turning to look at me. He looked terrible. His skin was paler than usual, almost grey. His eyes were misty, their usual blue colour diluted slightly to look more grey, less bright. His usually neat hair was sticking up in random places, his fringe all over the place. I noticed that he had lost a lot of weight, something I hadn't realised before. His fingers were thin and bony, and he was hooked up to various machines. He looked pretty much dead already. He looked extremely sad, and it took all of my effort not to burst into tears right at that moment.  I rushed over to him, shaking, before entwining my fingers in his.  He looked at me, attempting a weak smile, which I tried to return.

"You're going to make it, Phil.  You can do this.  Stay strong."  I whispered, squeezing his hand.  Phil coughed, his chest heaving and his face scrunched up in pain.  The doctors had give him all the medication he was legally allowed, and were pumping antibiotics into his body.  He had a cannula in his nose to try and help him breathe, but it wasn't doing much.  His face was paler than usual, his blue eyes bloodshot and his fingers clutching mine tightly.

"Don't let go, please."  I mumbled, kissing his temple before kissing his lips, trying to breathe some more air into him, or help him somehow.  Nothing changed, and when I pulled away Phil gasped a bit, trying to breathe in more air.  My heart broke at the sight.  My one true love, unable to breathe, dying right in front of me.  And I was powerless.  

"The antibiotics are going to start working in a minute.  Please Phil, please."  I sobbed, Phil's breaths becoming raspy and small.

"Dan, I c-can't.  I'm trying."  He muttered in between breathes.  His forehead was creased in concentration, and I willed for the cannula to work more effectively.