Finally

Part 50: Choices

Darkness fills the entirety of the space.

Electricity gone and heat nonexistent.

How is anyone to work in these conditions.

Hand pumping oxygen into patients who are dying from hypothermia now.

I never imagined we'd land in this moment.

I never thought the fight would be this tough.

"Dr. Goodwin!" I hear in the distance. "We found torches!"

I hear eager paced, yet cautious marches coming across the hospital floor. A British man with a port wine stain on his left cheek comes rushing hurriedly over to me- his arms full of flashlights and his headlamp bobbing its own around the ED of St. Mary's Hospital.

"Great! That's great Dr. Greene. Disperse what you can."

It's horrible.

I can barely feel anything.

My body struggling to keep its own warmth as I slowly pump a patient- my bare hands starting to turn black from frost bite despite the small glass heaters placed around the room.

"Greene?" I call out to him. His headlamp swivels back to me. Everyone is low on everything. .

Moral

Warmth.

Energy.

Hope.

I hate to categorize myself in there as well, but I am. I am out of it all.

"Do we know the latest temperature?"

"Does it matter? We passed the worst blizzard in the UK back in 1881 by 15. I don't think anyone wants to think about what happens next if it doesn't stop declining." He says respectfully, yet a slight undertone of irritation pours through.

"Got it. Thank you."

.....

"Morning, Miss Hatfield. How are we today?" I ask as I walk over to her bedside. My heels clicking on the floor lightly and the breeze from the open window blowing my white jacket open slightly. The 65 year old has been my patient for three years now. Her fight against leukemia has been one of the hardest I've seen. Tenacity and bravery resonate off of her and I can't help but gain my own strength when I visit.

"Oh you know, Dr. Sharpe- same shit, different day. How's you been, Pet?" Miss Hatfield is one of my favorite patients. She is often the only one willing to hold a conversation with me-especially after all that has happened over the last two years.

Two years.

Huh.

It flew by and yet...the difficulty is still far from over.

"As you- same shit, different day. My kids are here today though. Neither could stand the thought of school today...not that I blame them of course."

"It always seems tougher after the fact. How are you holding up still?"

"I um...I've been haunted. I mean...I'm always haunted by him- but...but I'm managing."

"Well...don't let anyone put you down today. It's all about head holding high and shoulders back." Nodding, I force a small smile to rise to my face as I check her charts and vitals for the day before starting her round of chemo. "Your boy—he's eleven?"

"10 actually. His birthday is in December. Huh...the time has flown and I don't know where too, but I thank God every day for him." It was always a blessing I became pregnant with Vincent and managed to live to see 48 now. Ten years passed and yet I don't feel it...at least not how I thought I would.