They wheeled her chair through the corridors of the regional hospital… «Where to?» one nurse asked another. «Maybe not a private roomperhaps the general ward?»
I grew uneasy. «Why the general ward when a private one is available?»
The nurses glanced at her with such genuine pity that I was utterly baffled. Only later did she learn that patients were moved to private rooms when they were dyingto spare the others the sight.
«The doctor said private,» the nurse repeated.
I relaxed. And when I found myself on the bed, I felt an odd peace simply because there was nowhere left to go, no one left to answer to, no responsibilities weighing me down. I was detached from the world, indifferent to whatever happened beyond those walls.
Nothing and no one concerned me. I had earned the right to rest, and it was bliss. Alone with myself, my soul, my lifejust me and my thoughts. Problems vanished, the rush of urgent matters faded. All those frantic pursuits seemed trivial compared to eternity, to life and death, to the unknown awaiting us.
And thenreal life burst forth around me! How wonderful it was: birds singing at dawn, sunlight creeping across the wall above my bed, golden leaves waving through the window, the deep blue of an autumn sky, the sounds of a waking citycar horns, the click of heels on pavement, the rustle of falling leaves… Goodness, how glorious life was! And only now did I truly see it.
«So what?» I told myself. «At least Ive realised it now. And I still have a few days left to cherish it, to love it with all my heart.»
Overwhelmed by freedom and joy, I turned to Godcloser to me now than ever.
«Lord!» I rejoiced. «Thank you for letting me see how beautiful life is, for teaching me to love it. Even if its just before death, Ive learned how wonderful it is to be alive!»
A quiet happiness, serenity, and boundless freedom filled me. The world shimmered with golden light, pulsing with divine love. It was everywheredense yet soft, like an ocean wave. Even the air felt thick, slow to enter my lungs. Everything glowed. I loved! It was like the soaring harmony of Bachs organ and a violins high, sweet notes.
The private room and the diagnosisacute leukaemia, stage fouralong with the doctors grim prognosis, had one advantage: no restrictions on visitors. Relatives were told to prepare for a funeral, and soon, a stream of grieving family came to say goodbye.
I understood their strugglewhat do you say to someone who knows theyre dying? Their bewildered faces amused me.
I was glad to see them all! More than anything, I wanted to share this newfound love for lifehow could anyone not be happy with that? I cheered them up as best I could, telling jokes and stories.
Thank heavens, they laughed, and our farewells were filled with joy. By the third day, I grew restless, pacing the room or sitting by the window. The doctor found me there and panickedI wasnt supposed to be moving.
«Will staying in bed change anything?» I asked.
«No,» she admitted, flustered. «But you cant walk.»
«Why not?»
«Your results are like a corpses. You shouldnt even be alive, let alone standing.»
The four days I was given passed. I wasnt dying. Instead, I devoured bananas and sausage with gusto, feeling perfectly fine. The doctor, however, was baffled. My tests hadnt changedmy blood was barely pinkyet I was up, watching telly in the hall.
Poor woman. Love demanded joy for those around me.
«Doctor, what would you like these results to say?»
«Well, at least…» She scribbled some numbers and letters. I didnt understand but studied them carefully. Muttering, she left.
At nine the next morning, she burst in. «How are you doing this?!»
«Doing what?»
«Your results! Theyre exactly what I wrote!»
«Oh? How should I know? Does it matter?»
I was moved to the general ward. Relatives had said their goodbyes and stopped visiting.
Five other women shared the room, silently, gloomily fading away. I lasted three hours. My love was suffocating. Something had to be done. Rolling a watermelon from under the bed, I sliced it open.
«Watermelon helps chemotherapy nausea,» I announced.
The scent of fresh snow filled the air. Hesitantly, the others gathered.
«Really helps?»
«Mm-hm,» I confirmed knowingly.
Juicy crunches followed.
«Its working,» said the woman by the window, on crutches.
«Me too… And me…» The others brightened.
«See?» I nodded. «Now, about this one time… Heard the joke?»
At 2 a.m., a nurse scolded us. «When will you stop laughing? The whole floor cant sleep!»
Three days later, the doctor hesitantly asked, «Could you move to another ward?»
«Why?»
«Everyone here is improving. The next ward has critical cases.»
«No!» my roommates cried. «She stays.»
So I did. Soon, other patients drifted in, just to chat and laugh. I understood why. Our ward was alive with love. It wrapped around everyone like a golden wave, bringing comfort.
My favourite was a sixteen-year-old girl in a white headscarf, knotted at the back. Stray ends made her look like a little hare. Lymph node cancer, they said. At first, I thought she never smiled. A week later, I saw how sweet and shy her grin was. When she said her treatment was working, we threw a feast. The on-duty doctor gaped.
«Thirty years here, and Ive never seen this.» He shook his head and left. We howled with laughter.
I read, wrote poems, gazed out the window, chatted with neighbours, wandered the hallsloving everything: books, juice, the old tree outside, even the car in the car park. They gave me vitaminshad to give me something. The doctor barely spoke, just eyed me warily.
Three weeks in, she muttered, «Your haemoglobins 20 points above normal. Stop raising it.»
She seemed cross. Logically, shed misdiagnosed mebut that was impossible, and she knew it.
Once, she confessed, «I cant confirm your diagnosis. Youre recovering, but no ones treating you. That cant happen.»
«So whats wrong with me?»
«I havent figured that out yet,» she whispered, walking away.
At my discharge, she sighed. «Ill miss you. Weve still got so many critical cases.»
Our entire ward was discharged. The departments mortality rate dropped by 30% that month.
Life went onbut my perspective had shifted. It was as if I now saw the world from above, its scale transformed. The meaning of life was suddenly simple: learn to love, and your possibilities become endless. Desires come trueif you shape them with love. No deceit, no envy, no grudges, no wishing harm. So simple, yet so hard.
Its trueGod is love. We just have to remember in time.
