The most important cure
I turned around in the hospital-ward, and found myself looking into a room. In the room I saw a single white bed, surrounded by the white walls. In the white bed, an old man lay, crying, trembling, his weeping echoing through the ward.
He was alone and no one else seemed to pay any attention to him, and something compelled me to go to him. And go I did. As I stood there beside his bed, his crying turned into a mild sob, and with a breath, he asked me to hold his hand. I did without hesitation. His crying slowly stopped, and I did not know what to say, when he suddenly attemted a cautious smile, so I just smiled back, and his smile became brighter. Then he looked me in the eye, and said; “I’m cured,” and before I could protest, thinking I could not have possibly cured anything, he put a finger to his lips, other hand still in mine. I could only stand and wonder, as he with a smile lay back his head and closed his eyes, and I could only stand with a strange feeling of comfort, as the long beeeeep of the heart monitor filled the room, and as my thoughts were flooded with wonder, I was rushed from the room by the herd of doctors and nurses, now surrounding the forever sleeping body of the lonely man. His words haunted me, but somehow I knew he was at peace.
[A short story]
