Michael Abateo had been mopping the floor when suddenly he felt the tightness in his chest. A shortness of breath startled him and it felt as if there was a huge creature sitting on his chest. Even his neck ached from its weight.
“Bastard!” He
managed to complain. He collapsed onto his knees and then clumsily rolled over
onto his back on the still-wet floor. He knew his clothes must be soaked but
all he could register was this intense pressure. If only, he thought, he could
catch a breath.
“Bastard”, he
repeated.
“You’re a right
bastard.” He was unconsciously rubbing his chest as if that would ease the huge
weight felt there. Then, another wave of excruciating pain radiated as the
elephant on his chest seem to shift slightly. Now there was also pain down his
arm as well.
“Oh, you
bastard!”
For some reason,
along with the pain and growing fear, Michael felt such anger. He hated
being on the floor held like a pinned animal unable to stand or even sit. He
wriggled to release its grasp on him but his movements seem to merely lower him
still further into a sandpit that felt warm and dark. The lights all went off.
A few hours
later Michael began to come around and sighed in relief that the weight had
been removed from his chest. He looked at his feet and saw the end of a hospital
bed with a chart hanging on it. There was a confusing ringing going on and he
could not determine whether it was external or internal. He was also attached
to machines of some sort by lots of tubbing and his head only turned slightly with
a mighty effort of will. A young nurse leant over him and said, “Hello Michael, how
are you feeling?”
She was in her
20s and her tone was professional but not warm. Michael tried to respond but
his mouth refused to obey him. His tongue felt like I didn’t belong to him at
all. This was ridiculous. Michael moved his head from side to side in distress.
The nurse put a hand on his shoulder and explained,
“You’ve had a
heart attack you are now in hospital, Michael. Just you relax, the doctor will
be around to talk to you soon.” She fiddled with some of the tubing and looked
at the reading above him on the machine and then left. Michael turned his head
and examined the room he found himself in. It was a cubicle in the accident
emergency unit of the hospital. He recognised the colour scheme from when he
had accompanied an elderly aunt of his who had been having an asthma attack. He
never thought that he would find himself in the same cubicle having had a heart
attack and struck dumb into the bargain! It was perverse really. He remembered
his aunt Vicky had been suffering from dementia in the last years of her life and
Michael had felt vaguely ashamed of her obvious confusion and distress at being
in a strange place. Now, Michael felt he could empathise with his aunt at last.
He only mourned that all those decades ago he had been so young, so full of
self that he lacked the ability to put himself in her shoes. The moment he had
this thought, Vicky flashed into his mind, smiling at him, wearing an apron and
offering him a pastizzi from a blue plate in her kitchen. He must’ve been 12
and the smell of her kitchen in Valetta filled his senses. The picture suddenly
became a video, as she absentmindedly tucked a curl behind her ear and lumbered
back to her precious stove. He could even see the burn mark high on her elbow
when she caught it on a hot baking shelf. Michael smiled in amazement at how
much love he felt for this sweet aunt.
She turned to him and smiled again before rubbing her cheek
absentmindedly. He remembered his father saying that his sister Vicki didn’t
suck her thumb as a child but would often rub her cheek instead. Michael found
himself amazed that all these vivid images were flooding his mind. Memories he
felt sure he’d forgotten for decades. The door of the cubicle opened and the
doctor entered. Michael was still entranced by his aunt Vicky who beamed at him
from the other side of the room. The doctor repeated something and the second
that Michael turned towards him, Vicky seemed to disappear. The doctor repeated loudly
and insistently,
“Michael, can you
hear me? Michael, can you hear my voice?”
Such stupid
questions! Michael answered with a nod but still, he turned his head, hunting for
his aunt Vicky. He felt very confused
indeed. The doctor was talking in a ridiculously loud voice as if to an
imbecile. Why, because he didn’t speak, did people think he couldn’t hear?
“Michael, you’ve had a heart attack and we are
giving you some medication. Do you feel any pain?” he asked.
Michael shook
his head from side to side but the movement felt exhausting. The doctor put a
cold stethoscope on Michael’s chest and wrote something down. At no point had the
doctor or nurse introduced themselves. Michael thought it a bit strange.
Perhaps, because he couldn’t talk, they didn’t feel the need? The doctor said
something that Michael didn’t catch. There was a clip of the door shutting and
then silence. Michael stared at the roof it was still pale green. He wondered
how long he’d been in this bed. He’d lost track of both time and speech. He slept.
The door opened
and his local young priest was by his bed. The priest spoke,
“I know you
can’t talk Michael but I’m here to give you the last rites “.
Michael felt
this was very ominous indeed. Things were obviously not looking good for him.
But he felt vaguely annoyed that this young priest had broken the news instead
of a doctor. The priest began the ceremony and asked if Michael had anything to
confess. Michael nodded out of sheer revenge. The priest looked perturbed,
“So, there is
something do you want to confess!”
Michael nodded
again. The young priest was thrown. Should he continue with the rites? Should
he enquire as to the sin? His face showed his confusion. That nod meant he, as
a priest, should try to proceed with the three sections of the confession.
First the penitent should show contrition (sorrow for sins committed) then would
follow disclosure of the sins (confession of sins) and finally, they would gain
satisfaction (undergo penance to make amends).
The priest began cautiously to
intone,
“May God who has
enlightened every heart help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy. Michael,
is your sin a mortal sin or a venial sin?”
Then, the door
opened and a nurse stood at the entrance but seeing the priest paused at the
door. Obviously, suddenly embarrassed the priest decided to ignore his sin-filled but dumb patient and finished with a
great rush of words and gestures then ran to the door.
Michael suddenly
wanted to laugh for some reason. He was glad to see Vicky back at the end of
his bed. She rolled her eyes at Michael,
“So many sins
Michael and so little time!” But she laughed happily,
Michael looked
ashamed, he shouldn’t have behaved as he had. Shouldn’t have teased the young
priest. There was suddenly so much he regretted in his life. Vicky seemed to read his mind for she smiled
as she spoke,
“I read once
that if priests hadn’t added vain imaginings to religion then the philosophers
wouldn’t call religion vain imaginings.”
Michael found
this incredibly deep and insightful. He couldn’t imagine his aunt having such
thoughts. He looked at her amazed. She
continued to speak,
“The good news
is that God knows all that we’ve done or left undone. Our deeds are carved on tablets of chrysolite,
it is said. Anyway, I reckon bringing
ourselves to account each day is an effective form of confession.”
Michael nodded
and realised that for the first time in his life he was looking back on his
life and gaining a perspective that had been missing. In some ways he felt so sorry that it was
only here, at the end of things, clarity of sorts was dawning. Aunt Vicky
reassured him,
“Reflection can
bring contrition, Michael. An action to make good what we have failed is making
amends. It always amazes me how much people worry about bad things they’ve done
but they forget to consider the good things they have done and those good deeds
they left undone.”
Michael felt
ashamed of how he had acted towards his aunt especially in her days of
dementia. They had both been so close
when he was younger.
Aunt Vicky
looked at him thoughtfully,
“I never had
children. No matter how much I longed
for them it made no difference. But you
came along and changed my world. You
will never know how much your love meant to me.
It healed so much in my life. We
had so much laughter in our home because of you. I don’t forget that. “
Michael smiled
back at his aunt relieved she had only good memories of him.
Then she asked,
“Do you want to
know how you should feel about death?”
Michael was
startled at the question but captivated by her warmth and words. He nodded.
She said,
“We should think
of death the way we think of the destination of a long journey. It’s something
to look forward to, not dread.”
Michael suddenly
thought of all those who he would miss, his children, his brother and sisters,
his friends. She seemed to sense it and explained,
“Death doesn’t
take anything away from us Michael. Those we love are ever with us.”
She beamed at
him,
“Death is like
breaking the cage. It frees the bird within.”
She leaned in so
close Michael could smell fresh bread from her apron. There’s a lot of people
who love you, waiting for you. Your
Maria is looking forward to seeing you soon.
Michael sighed
and his heart ached for all those who he had lost but especially his wife
Maria.
His Aunt Vicky,
walked away from the bed and suddenly there was light everywhere. On the wall in front of him, he saw his life
unfold kaleidoscope-like. Then, the
light grew so bright it made everything else disappear, even Michael.
thanks and hope you are feeling better soon xx
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