Time Served
I stare at the young man before me and try to control the tone of my voice. “I’m afraid it isn’t the news that we hoped for. There are still signs of the cancer.”
He forces a smile, always putting on a brave face. “What does this mean doc? More chemo?”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option, you’re already too weak. We’d be putting you at greater risk for a nominal chance of success.”
“Ok, so now what?”
“Now it is just a question of time.”
There’s that look. The one I see every day. The realization that all hope is lost. I wish I could tell him it will all be ok, but I can’t. Instead it will require a miracle. I don’t get to take credit. That’s not how this works.
“How long do I have doc?”
I reach out and touch his hand. “Right now, let’s say six months. Come and see me again in three months and we will see where you’re at. I might be able to give you more time then, depending on your condition.”
He just nods. No screaming, no blaming, just acceptance. I wish I could give him more time, but there are rules to follow. I need to see how he copes. Some people go the other way with only months to live, drugs, crime, debt. I have a good feeling though. Survival needs a positive attitude. If he’s still like this in three months then I can give him more time. He certainly deserves it.
He gets up to leave and holds out his hand. “Thanks doc. For everything.”
I hold back the tears as I shake it, his grip already feeling a little stronger.
As soon as he leaves I slump into my chair. I’m so drained right now. It has been a long day. I need a boost, something to get me back on my feet. I check my schedule for tomorrow. It is full. So many people to help. If only I had more time.
I get in my car and drive to my next appointment. I stand at the large foreboding gates while they buzz me in. The guard nods, “Hey doc. Back again so soon?”
“What can I say Jenkins, I can’t get enough of this place.”
They lead me through to the infirmary and wait outside the door. The prisoner is already there, chained to the bed. He snarls at me. “Are you the guy? The other prisoners have told me you can give me something to make all this go away. To end my life quietly.”
“I don’t know what you mean. It would be illegal for me to give you something to end your life. You are serving time, there is no easy way out.”
He grabs me and I smile. They always grab me. Makes it so much easier. I can feel the time flowing, topping up my reserves. He senses it too and he lets go, startled. Then he sees my smile and he understands. He holds out his hand and I take it, draining what is left. He says, “How long?”
“I’ll leave a couple of months. It can’t be too soon, or they will suspect something.”
He just nods, all fight gone now. He says, “What will you do with it?”
“I’ll give it to someone that needs it.”
He smiles softly, finally at peace. “Take as much as you can. I’ll get into a fight tomorrow, make sure it’s my last. Don’t waste two months.”
I nod. “Thank you for your donation.”
Note that this story was a response to a writing prompt on Reddit. The original post can be found here
