thirty-seven

Danny held Ellen’s limp hand, watching her chest rise and fall in time with the rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator. She was back on the intensive care ward surrounded by a small cavalry of equipment. One of many poor souls in the large, depressing room. Beeping heart monitors and murmurs from the attending nurses and family members surrounded him but sounded muffled.

Danny found himself breathing in time with the ventilator’s whoosh. The machine paused, and Danny held his breath. A moment of fear caused by the absence of noise, and then the ventilator returned to its normal rhythm. He beckoned a passing nurse, who grimaced in response.

“Is there something wrong with the machine?” he said. “It stopped for a few seconds.”

Her expression cleared. “We’re weaning your wife off the ventilator so that her lungs can start working for themselves again. The ventilator pauses and if she doesn’t fill the gap on her own, the ventilator pressure increases again. It’s perfectly normal.”

There was nothing perfect about this. Or normal.

“Is it necessary to wean her off the ventilator now?” Danny said. “She’s still recuperating from—”

“A cardiac incident, yes.”

No, Danny wanted to yell. From death, you useless baggage. Her heart stopped and you brought her body back to life. To live like this. All hail the miracle of modern medicine. “Yesterday, she died,” he said.

The nurse frowned at his bluntness. Maybe most civilians used pretty turns of phrase such as “pass on.” Like taking a pass on the second helping of dinner. I’ll take a pass on this life, thanks. As if the patient had a choice in the matter. The crux of it, that. Ellen should still have a choice. Somehow. What was it like locked inside her head? Was she screaming for him to let her go or to not give up?

“She’s on the mend,” the nurse said. “Her lungs are clearing up.”

From a side table she picked up a small canister of salve and handed it to Danny. He covered his fingertip with a cool dollop, rubbing it with his thumb. She instructed him how to dab the salve onto Ellen’s nostril where the feeding tube chafed the skin. The ventilator paused. Danny froze, hoping to see Ellen breathe on her own.

A few seconds later the machine whooshed more air into her lungs.