Last Request

“I'm in pain,” she whispers underneath a mask of steam.

It hurts to open her eyes, but she could see just enough to make out a few people standing around her, their rosaries dangling from their fingertips. It hurts to listen, but she could hear the soft mumbling of prayers and sobs. She feels a hand touch her forehead as another graces her arm. Cold and shaky, but she does not have the energy to warm and comfort them. She is slowly forgetting how to breathe, entering the final stages of an illness she never saw coming.

“I’m tired,” she utters behind a light-blue, plastic cover full of oxygen.

She lies still, curled up in a tiny ball of fatigue. Moving her mouth as if to say something, but yet nothing comes out, not even air. She sees the others move in closer as if to examine her like some caged creature being studied under a microscope. Different faces approach her. Some sad, with flushed cheeks and eyes flooded with tears. Others hide their sadness behind happy smiles and joyful tones.

One by one, they reintroduce themselves to her. Kissing her hand, rubbing their fingers through her hair, staring into her eyes hoping that somehow she will call out to them with some sort of recognition. Anything to show that she once knew what they meant to her. She nods politely, unable to match a name to a face. Few were fortunate to receive such satisfaction as a giggle, but many were left disappointed.

“How I wish I could do more for you,” she sighed as they turned their backs and walked away.

A man enters, dressed in a white coat with a clipboard in hand. The people surrounding her slowly walk towards him, anxiously waiting for what he has to say. As he speaks, more tears fall from the others’ eyes. It’s hard for her to make out too much of the details, but through bits and pieces she picks up the “Glory of Life” and “It is time.” Some cover their mouths and bow their heads in silence. The man pauses as if in need of a response, but no one manages to say a word. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“There isn’t much we can do,” he says solemnly.

She comes to realize the life he was referring to is her own. The time is her time and the people in the room are her family. They stand motionless, unable to accept the fact that she will never recover, that her health is quickly deteriorating. She could feel them pulling for something more, thinking the man’s words are only hypothetical and that there must be something else they could try, anything to keep her going just a little longer.

She looks at herself. Trapped in a hospital bed with paper-thin sheets wrapped around her, tubes jutting out from each side. All this technology and intricate equipment set to feed her, nourish her, and assist her breathing. Yet though it can keep her alive she knows it cannot live for her. Her body is weak. She cannot hug anyone back or hold anyone’s hand so tight and say, “Everything will be alright.” Her energy slowly drains away while her mind continues to draw a blank. She cannot create any more memories nor cherish the many she once held dear. She breathes through a mask and tube, her heart beats through a monitor, but she no longer wishes to live through a machine.

The eldest daughter sees her mother’s sunken face and bends down to hear her last request.

“I’m ready to go…” Ma said.