DREAM ON...

HEART MADE OF STONES

Drip...drip...drip... Bill Williams sighed. He was in hospital yet again. Back to the world of white sheets and restless nights, of medication rounds and bedpans. He hoped this time it was for the last time, but what if it was for the very last time, because...because...

His eyes followed the fluid-filled tube from the suspended plastic bag down to the strapped area on his arm. Last night, when he dad been roused from sleep by searing pain, when the ambulance had sped through dark wet streets to bring him here, it had seemed as if this was a place of refuge, but now he was afraid.

He turned his head carefully to the right. Beside him sat his wife Emma. Was it only last week ago that they had celebrated their fortieth wedding  anniversary? He was about to ask her to give him a sip of water, but he saw that she had fallen asleep. She had her knitting lying idle on her lap. He looked more closely at the pile of soft pink wool that was becoming a jacket for his latest grandchild. Would he be able to make her a shinning sledge in his workshop, to glide through the sparkling Christmas snow? He thought of each grand child in turn, then each grown child.

Mary with her law practice in the city, Simon with his struggling fish farm on the coast,  Ava with his restless feet, off climbing for charity in the icy Himalayas. The white coated doctor strode in and brought his mind back to the present. Emma struggled up from the world of sleep and straightened her glasses.  They both gave the doctor their full attention. Each of his words was weighed for hidden full messages of hope or dread.

'You are scheduled for surgery first tomorrow morning, Mr Williams. I've looked at your charts and the results have come through from the lab. We should be able to fix this heart problem of yours once and for all. How does that sound?'   'That's great, sir'  Mr Williams smiled, but it was a small sad smile that did not reach his fear-filled eyes.  The doctor continued to explain the procedure. He answered their questions, but when he left they both sat silently together as if in shock. Finally, Emma took  her husband's hand. 'I have to go now, love, or I'll miss the last bus. I'll come in first thing in the morning .' She bent and kissed his cheek.

He smelled her perfume and felt the warmth of her lips. He grabbed her hand. 'Don't go.'