Beto has been in the operating room for 29 hours. He can feel the sweat streaming down his face and neck. He pauses to wipe his arm across his brow.
"Feeling tired Dr. Beto?" asks one of the surgeons. "We're almost done, pretty soon your husband will be good as new." Beto gives a tired smile and lifts his head to meet the doctor's eyes.
"What do we do next?" He asks, putting down the instruments he had previously been using.
The other doctors all look at each other, seemingly nervous.
"Before we tell you, we want you to know that you have been extremely helpful so far. If anything happens, know that it's not your fault." The head surgeon rubs Beto's shoulder as he says this.
"What? What are we about to do?" Beto asks, getting increasingly nervous. The doctor's give each other another nervous look.
"We need...to seal the wound with a bandaid." The doctor says, unable to meet Beto's eyes. Beto takes a sharp breath and looks down at Tedlijah's body. He looks so peaceful, his chest rising and falling with every breath. After a moment, Beto nods.
"I'm ready."
The doctors start to scurry around the room, preparing the necessary tools. While Beto waits, he tries to shake out his nerves. The head surgeon picks up the bandaid and hands it off to a younger, less experienced intern. The intern gulps loudly, and takes a shaky step towards Beto. The young man turns around to look at the head surgeon, unsure. The man simply nods, encouraging the intern forward. The intern takes a few more timid steps until he is stopped in front of Beto. With his eyes downcast, the intern hands Beto the bandaid.
"I...I'm sorry sir." The poor intern creeps away into a corner.
Beto takes a deep breath, bandaid shaking in his hand. He looks down once more at Tedlysses and tries to think confident thoughts.
"This is it." He announces, unwrapping the bandaid.
The air is still.
No one dares to breathe as the sound of the paper tearing cuts through the room.
Beto feels a tickle deep within his sinuses.
A clink is heard as someone gently places a scalpel on a metal table.
The tickle persists.
A soft drip is heard from the sink as water creeps through the faucet.
Beto cannot hold it in.
"aaaAAAAAACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooOOOooooOOOoooOOO!"
Beto lets out a gargantuan sneeze.
As he sneezes, his arm jerks out and punches through Tedmiliano's skull.
Beto gasps.
The room is silent.
"...What...happened??" The head doctor says, slowly approaching the operating table. He gasps at the sight.
Tedachary has a noticeable dent in the side of his head. The bandaid is crookedly placed a millimeter above the site of the wound.
The doctor places a hand on Beto's shoulder. A single tear rolls down Beto's face.
"He will not be any pain, but there is bad news."
The doctor gently pats Beto's shoulder.
"He has only 10 months to live."
