An Inexperienced Encounter with Death
AS I sat timorously, legs crossed in the waiting room, my worried eyes were drawn to the clock. How much time did I have left? Should I be out there enjoying my last days on earth? I gulped and took a lengthy, nervous breath, adjusting my burgundy tie that was worn loosely around my neck. I sat up in the cushioned yet uncomfortable chair, and scoured the room for other people like me: victims to the unfortunate fate that is demise. One man, a chubby gentleman across the room, seemed to have plunged face-first into a chasm filled with venomous snakes. His face bulged a red-pink colour and oozed a slimy liquid. My focus then switched briskly to the face of a woman with a pale complexion and sickly visage. She was staring straight ahead at the olive-coloured walls, her eyes unblinking. The globular man struggled to get up as his name was called. He waddled, slowly towards the Doctor’s office before squeezing in the doorway. I imagined the Doctor’s shocked look. After all these years of doctoring surely he had never seen such a plump man, or such a glowing face.
To distract myself from the eerie reminder that this was a place of illness and death, I looked upon the glass coffee table in front of me. Resting precariously on the edge was a colourful magazine, the only somewhat chromatic thing in the entire room (that, and my burgundy tie, of course.) I reached over and took the magazine, placing it on my lap to first receive my pen before continuing. I stuck my fingers into my breast pocket, plucking out my blue pen and I opened the magazine, skipping the initial swimsuit section. Perhaps glancing at only the beautiful floral patterns as I went, as I am a married man. Flicking to the crossword puzzle at the back, hesitant not to graze my bandaged finger, I readied my biro.
‘Four letters, a group of otters.’ I knew this, as I had an undying love for the little river creatures. ‘R – O – M – P.’ Quite a weird word, that! I wrote the letters into the boxes, careful not to write outside of the lines. ‘Six letters, astrological sign of one born on June the first.’ I looked up from the magazine, eyes widened by what I just read. This was an omen, wasn’t it? An indication that I would die of Cancer. That, or I will be mutilated by a giant crab. Unanticipatedly, an ancient face peered over from my right. Was this Death himself ? Coming to take me to the afterlife? I closed my eyes, bracing for the worst.
“It’s Gemini,” the elderly gentleman stated softly in my ear.
I turned to face him, my eyes still enlarged by my previous thoughts. Nodding awkwardly, I jotted down the correct answer into the crossword. I’m overthinking things. That’s all. Of course, it’s Gemini. I was just being silly. At this point, I thought it would be a good idea to put down the magazine and relax, and that I did. My pen was returned safely into my pocket and my head tilted back, resting off of the waiting room wall. In that moment, I felt at peace. I was ready for the worst.
I must have dozed off as I awoke to the sound of my name being called out by the receptionist. I rose off the hard seat and retrieved my coat jacket from the back of the chair. I walked slowly -in time with my anxious breathing- towards the door to the doctor’s office. Turning the cold, brass knob, I entered. I had never thought about death, until then. It had always seemed like a distant thing. I imagined only experiencing it once I had reached my elderly years. I could see me, bedridden, surrounded by my immediate family. I didn’t expect ‘Sir Snake Bites’ and ‘Mrs Malnourishment’ to be my last human contact. That is, of course, before I meet the doctor.
“Good afternoon, Mister- “The doctor briefly checked his clipboard, held loosely within his grasp. “-Edwards,” I smiled, and walked towards the doctor, who was gesturing in the direction an empty seat. “Sit down, please.”
It must be terrible news.
“So, what is it, doc?” I asked, with a quivering voice. “Well,” he exhaled, “You’ll need maybe, say, five stitches.”
I laughed in relief. A great weight, in that moment, disappeared from my shoulders. “You know,” the doctor chuckled, “what did you expect from a small cut like that? Death?”