At Death's Door
Solemnness gathered and hung like heavy fog above the occupants of the waiting area. Soft grey chairs lined the L-shaped wall with military precision. A middle-aged couple sat next to the vending machine and expressionlessly stared at the white tiled floor as if it concealed the answers. Their knuckles, ashen from each other’s grip, matched their ghostly complexions. An anxious young man with bloodshot eyes sat in the corner. With his eyebrows furrowed, he typed frantically on his phone. Seated forward, he embodied unrest as his left leg bounced in agitation.
The open-plan waiting area allowed a full view of the hallway that lead to and from the ICU. The hallway always clear of pedestrian traffic and the ceiling lined with LED lights. The LED closest to the entrance of the ICU flickered as if it felt the tension rise and fall in the restricted ward.
Across the lightened hallway in the opposite corner was a mirror image of a similar haunted waiting area, however windows lined one of L-shaped walls letting in the icy image of grey. Dark drenched clouds ready to burst at the seams whilst blocking out the sun, keeping the world suspended in its own purgatory. The waiting room across the hall had two of its own ghostly figures. A man in his golden years with manicured pepper stubble lining his jaw paged through the newspaper and squinted behind modern rectangular spectacles. And a woman with a grey knitted jersey and dark frizzy hair had her back turned to the unsuspected observer, her attention drawn to the lights of an oncoming ambulance below.
The rumblings of conversations and clinking of glass and cutlery could be heard, emanating from the coffee shop two floors below. The whiffs of coffee and subtle trickles of laughter were the only indication of human life. It offered a comforting distraction to the distant beeping sounds of heart monitors and ventilators that resided in the ICU. Two very different worlds existing parallel to each other, only a floor apart.
A burst of energy and waves of quick conversation disturbed the stillness, as a hospital bed surrounded by three hospital personnel pushed through the ward’s swinging doors. All wore identical dark blue scrubs. One gentleman stood at the head of the bed, arms held onto the opposite corners of the bed to help push and steer the mobile patient in the correct direction. A woman on his left side with an IV bag in the one hand and a medical chart in the other, skipped to keep up. A petite woman sat on the bed, legs on either side of the patient. She held a mask with a hand pump to the patient’s nose and mouth while rhythmically squeezing the inflated bag. Everyone in the waiting areas shifted from the cool air stirred by the sudden activity. The moment passed as quickly as it came, leaving behind the distinct smell of surgical spirits and a metallic taste on the tip of the tongue.