Paige

After the nurse left I must have fallen asleep again because the next time I open my eyes the sun is bright behind the curtains. My head spins at first so I quickly close my eyes while silently preying I won't be sick. Sometime later the door clicks open and I hear a voice asking a question with just one word; 'tea?'

'Yes, please.' I manage huskily. The unmistakable sound of tea being poured is heaven to my ears. Cautiously I open my eyes. The lady making my tea is elderly, maybe in her seventies. Her white hair is curled and short, much like how my Nan had worn her hair. This lady looks so much like my Nan in fact that I begin to wonder if I have died and gone to heaven.

'Here you are love,' she says cheerfully as she pulls the tray over the bed and places the on it. 'Would you like to try a slice of toast? You must be hungry.'

'No thanks,' my mouth says but my tummy gives an almighty rumble, 'on second thoughts.' She laughs at this before placing the toast next to my tea.

'Just eat what you can Love,' she smiles then turns to go.

'Do you work here?' The words blurt out without my consent and the rudeness of the question causes my cheeks to burn.

'I used to Love, I volunteer now. Only on a few wards, where the patients aren't so poorly. I worked here for forty years. Never known another job. I loved it so much I just couldn't say goodbye. You eat that up now. Bye Love.'

Eating is a slow process but the tea is gone in two mouthfuls. Nearly half way through the toast and the door opens again. This time it is a Doctor. He checks me over, asks questions and shines some light in my eyes. When he is done he takes a step back and looks at me thoughtfully.

'Is something wrong?'

'No, no, you are doing quite well. It's just that I was told you wanted to see your husband?' I nod my response. 'Of course you do. I was just wondering as to whether it is a good idea. I don't mean to alarm you but he is in a bad way. I am just worried that seeing him will cause you distress and, while you are improving, you are not 100% yet.'

'I will be fine,' the words are croaky and tears spring to my eyes.

He studies me for a while longer before responding, 'I guess you can see him as long as you are taken by wheelchair to minimise the risk of accidents.'

'That is fine,' I say. As he goes to arrange my visit to Lex I think over what he has said. I knew Lex was in a bad way but is he in such a state that the Doctor is genuinely concerned I will faint at the sight?

It takes an hour before I am collected and helped into a wheelchair. The journey through the hospital makes me feel giddy as we get lost in a maze of corridors and lifts. Finally we arrive on a ward that clearly means business. There are fewer patients here than on the ward I just left and a lot more medical professionals. It is clear that the people unfortunate enough to be here are in a serious way. A sudden high pitch beeping to my left draws the attention of a number of people who all hurry in to help. In a way I am relieved that Lex is somewhere with this level of care yet, at the same time, the fact that he needs such care sends shivers down my spine.

A nurse meets us and leads us along the corridor while explaining that Lex's room is at the very end of the ward. When we arrive at the room the nurse, who is directly in front of me, turns and informs that, due to his condition, I am only allowed to see Lex through the window – the blind of which has already been raised. Her words frighten me so it takes me a moment before I can nod my understanding. As she moves away my vision is filled with a bed surrounded my machines and my Lex in the middle of it all.

My mind instantly sees that one machine is helping him to breathe, another shows the blip, blip that monitors heartbeats. There is tube full of dark red fluid going from his arm to a bag and other tubes, discreetly placed, carry waste products out of his poor, beaten body. In truth, there are so many things connected to him that it is hard to be sure if this is really Lex or some other poor soul. The only proof that the person in that bed is my husband is the small tattoo which circles his elbow.

A few minutes are needed before the scene in front of me sinks in. When it does, my eyes fill with tears and my heart aches so badly I have to clutch my chest. The agony of seeing him this way causes my head to swoon slightly making me glad of the wheelchair. Suddenly the blip, blips dancing across the heart monitor are replaced by a single flat line. The machine screams its alert, people rush in to respond and I am left calling Lex's name through my tears with a voice not even the orderly standing behind my wheelchair can hear.

The room is full of a calm sort of panic as they start to work on my beautiful husband – a man who has been through too much already. I hear the word 'clear' being said in a firm, loud voice and see Lex's chest convulse. Despite this, I can still see that flat line.