AN EPHEMERAL EXISTENCE

 

“ ‘Mom! Mom! Fast! Come here!’ cried Emma. Mrs. Rogers came hastily down the stairs and into the living room to find her elder daughter Jesse lying on the floor, unconscious. Approaching her slowly and cautiously, Mrs. Rogers, with a close glance, realised that blood was pouring down her nose. She stood there for sometime, non-plussed. Her surroundings were falling apart, the muffled cries from Emma were appearing to dwindle and then with a hard push from Emma she came back to her senses. Everything was back, the walls of the house were reverberating Emma's scared cries. Mrs. Rogers rushed to her elder daughter and picked her up onto her lap. The bleeding was still profuse. She groped for her mobile and opened her contact list but shut it instantly and carried her daughter to the car with Emma running behind her. Getting into the car, they all drove for the hospital.

‘Mrs. Rogers?’ called out the nurse. Mrs. Rogers looked at the nurse and advanced forward into the doctor's room, glancing sideways at the cabin, spelling ICU on its door. The doctor gestured for her to sit down. His face was impassive. Mrs. Rogers finally spoke, with her harsh yet motherly voice, ‘Doctor this is the third time in a row! You have to tell me what is wrong with my daughter. I can by no means bear to see her in that state nor Emma in that trauma again!’ Her voice was steady yet her eyes poured in all the impatience, which she was trying to suppress.

The doctor spoke in a solemn manner, ‘Mrs Rogers, I understand your concern but you have to comprehend that I had to be absolutely sure before letting you know that it is what I had expected it to be and not just a panic or anxiety attack. I hope you recall that she has had that kind of a history. So, before I let you into the details, I would need you to calm down, please.’ Mrs Rogers finally lost valuable patience and banged her hands on the doctor's desk! She had lost all her control, which she has been holding in for over two hours since Jesse was found by her in that condition. She screamed with all her energy, 'I WILL, BY NO MEANS, CALM DOWN UNTIL I AM ABSOLUTELY SURE THAT MY DAUGHTER IS ALL RIGHT!' The doctor looked at her, bewilderment in his brilliant bluish-green eyes, his face expressionless still, amazed at Mrs Rogers's rage maybe because in the time that he had known her, he has never seen her to be that furious. ‘Yelena, I know this is tough for you, not just for you but for me too.’ he said, almost in a whisper, in an attempt to calm her down but it was in absolute vain. She gritted her teeth and spoke in an almost scary tone, ‘Mr. Stephen Grey, let me make one thing absolutely clear to you and wipe out your little misconception. You are only and only a doctor who's treating my daughter, that’s all. You are nothing more to me or my family. I would hope that you get that into your head!’

Dr Grey merely bent his head low and said in a whisper, once again, ‘I am ashamed of everything that I had said and –‘. He was interrupted by Mrs Rogers's hand, which was held up in the air as a sign for him to cease his talking. Mrs Rogers seemed to have finally pulled herself together and said in a cold voice, ‘I merely want to know what is wrong with my daughter.' 'Very well, then let me tell you that she has been diagnosed with a rare condition called Hereditary Haemorrhagic Telangiectasia, also called HHT’, he finished with a long sigh. Mrs Rogers’s expression did not change, yet her eyes and mouth wanted or longed for more words - words of security, words of assurance and hope. She threw herself up from the armchair and left the room with that similar fleeting sense when everything was falling apart because she had lost her own father to the same condition,HHT. But within, what seemed like a few seconds, she was brought back to her senses as she bumped into a little boy in the corridor outside the doctor's chamber.

Next morning came. Everything around them seemed to be rejoicing - the birds chirping, the sun shine flooding every corner of the gloomy Hospital, the luxuriant bushes and trees of the hospital garden and nearby held a sight, one would not easily forget. It seemed, as though, they were completely oblivious of the grief of a mother who knew her first child was going to have a short life, merely of 17 years, on this precious planet.

Jesse was not a typical teenager. She has been through a lot at a very young age and needless to say a tender one too. She didn't really like to recall all those abusive memories, specifically the first nine or ten years of her life. But the immediate future on now the past were the best years of her, unknown to her at that point, short life. She loved music, dance, books and her sister, who made her life for the last six years seemingly enjoyable. Emma was adored by everyone, her mother, her father whom she barely recalled, her aunt and by her as well. But the traumas she had had since her birth or rather since she had the senses of feeling and comprehending her surrounding situations, resulted in her having flashbacks of those traumatic screaming, breaking and crying and all the others which came back to her at irregular intervals. She kept having panic attacks and, now this illness, which by the by would help her get rid of all those sufferings.

The third day approached. It was twilight and Jesse was asleep, while her mother and little sister kept peering at her. Doctor Grey entered the cabin and Emma was asked to leave the room which was met with a lot of protest from her end. Though she was only 6, she had senses and maturity of a higher age. But her protests were drowned as soon as her mother's pleading gaze fell upon her and with her higher sense of capability to understand the look, she left the room immediately without any more arguments. 'Well, as I have told you before there is not much that we can do except for some medication for temporary relief . I cannot tell you exactly how much time she has got but all I can say that it's not much and that it's a matter of time until --' his voice broke unnaturally and Yelena Rogers, for the first time, since the Doctor had entered the room, looked up at him with that same craving look in her eyes, longing for assurance but with one blink, it was gone. She looked at her daughter in a serene manner and thoughts and memories flooded into her veins and vision - the first time that she had ever held Jesse in her arms, with Jesse's tiny hands, eyes, her little smile and soft chubby cheeks so kissable and cuddly that one could hardly resist, all her silly talks and immature babbling as she had learnt to talk for the first time, her first shaky steps, the first time that she had ever called her 'ma-ma', and she couldn't stop thinking, not until a voice brought her back to her senses. It was Doctor Grey, who was asking her to come out of the cabin as he wanted to discuss certain other things.

No sooner had the two left than Jesse opened her eyes, tears floating in them - tears she had been trying to hold off for the past five minutes or so as her eyes burnt and she felt a lump in her throat, she told herself, ‘Stop! Stop crying! You are not a coward! Be brave!’, but she was just kidding herself , she had been lying to herself all this time, she had been denying it all along, but now it was clear, it was in front of her, the real truth. Yet she struggled to stop crying, to pull herself together and kept telling herself, ‘You are not like other children. You kn

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ew it all along, Jesse. You were just meant to come for a short visit, that's the simple truth and nothing else!’. But tears kept pouring out, those slim hands kept shaking and she kept trying but it was not until all the energy in her body was drained that she stopped, laid still, as if trying to feel death and closed her eyes hoping it would stop hurting and she would be free, but it was clearly not that easy.

Days passed by. No one mentioned anything about Jesse's short, rather very short period of existence on this planet, which previous to this catastrophic incident seemed like the most cruel place but has now turned into something no less than a Paradise, beautiful and amazing with memories that could help one through the darkest and most vulnerable times. This time it was Jesse, whose brilliant bluish-green eyes scanned the faces of her mother and little sister. It was her turn to play back the film reel of memories - her 5th birthday gift given to her by her beloved papa (who had passed away when she was just 10), her mischievous acts and her mother's sweet scolds turning into a wide smile as soon as Jesse giggled, her first time ever holding her little sister in her arms, those beautiful days and nights when both she and Emma slept together, ate together, sang and danced together and other innumerable things. Jesse felt that after all her troubles and sufferings , these were the only things , she would like to hold onto....if she stayed...

 As each day passed, Jesse kept feeling weaker and more vulnerable. Mental fatigue was taking over her physical exhaustion. But one day, about a month after she had been admitted to the hospital something happened - a piece of incredulous information was thrown at her, out of the blue. It was around 3 in the afternoon. She was resting her head on the pillow holding a copy of ‘Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier’ in her hands. Doctor Grey came inside, he was peering down at her when she just opened her eyes and saw an aggrieved look on his face. 'You are so brave, just like your mother, too tough. I know you heard everything that your mother and I were talking about and I just want you to know that you are holding on really well and that am the proudest person on this planet to know that you are my daugh-' he broke off. Both she and Doctor Grey looked at the door. Mrs Rogers had entered the room and her face was blazing, and she said through gritted teeth, ‘Don't you dare play these guilty games and sympathy cards with me and MY daughter. She is no one to you and you should have recalled your words before you claimed your guardianship upon my daughter.’ Her voice was slightly tremulous, whether it was for her rage or remorse, Jesse didn't know. Her pupils were slightly stretched, they were moving from doctor Grey to her mother in utter confusion. And then, within an instant, her insides started burning as if someone had set her on fire. Her heart was beating rapidly, fast enough to break off her ribs. She felt a warm, sticky fluid, running down her neck. She could still hear the muffled talking between Doctor Grey and her mother and then she felt the worst pain of her life - it was like someone was beating her head with an axe, chopping off her insides. She wanted it to stop, she wanted to die immediately but the anguish was persistent. It would not cease, she could feel her pillow being wet with what seemed to be her blood, she shut her eyes praying that death would embrace her....

Four more days passed by after the incident. Jesse was still in a coma. Mrs Rogers knew that the hard time was approaching. She has always been a strong women, self -dependent. She didn't care about who stayed and who left her life. She had been a single mother for the last 5 years since her husband had passed away after 7 years of their rather abusive and inappropriate marriage. She made strong decisions, though some people would call them all to be wrong ones as a result of which she stood alone but they had no idea that her two daughters were the only assets of her life which she wanted to preserve and to keep with her no matter what, but at that instance her single need was failing her. Doctor Grey called Mrs. Rogers to his chamber. ‘I know this is a hard decision for you to make but we have to come to a conclusion. We will be observing her for another 48 hours and after that the decision lies with you. The decision where you need to conclude, whether you want to let her suffer with no cure or let her pass away painlessly in her sleep because I think she had had enough pain in her brief entity’, he said in a soft voice. He continued to say, ‘As much as I do not want her to leave, yet I cannot deny that this is a time when we need to be selfless - Look at her, smile and let her leave peacefully.’

The last two days passed in what seemed like thousands of years. Every second was passed by Mrs Rogers, looking at her phone with Emma in her arms clutching to her dwindling hope- the evil prospect of life which challenges us every time we try to accept life for what it really is. Emma, with her heightened sensibility had known that it was time.

 Then the day had finally arrived. As Mrs Rogers drove to the hospital, the world looked so serene, almost all the faces that Mrs Rogers looked at, were seemingly at equanimity with themselves. She entered her daughter's cabin and sat beside her. Jesse's face looked so beautiful. It gave off an unnatural glow, almost like a fairly or an angel being asleep and Mrs Rogers wished if only the fairy could give a flick to her wand and make everything right. Doctor Grey entered the cabin in a slow pace, ‘So, looks like its 'bout time, are you ready?’ his voice had a soothing sense, some would say that it was pity but Mrs Rogers knew that it wasn’t, it was genuine. It seemed, as though the two had finally resolved all their misunderstandings. After all, she thought, Stephen was feeling the same thing, the same loss, it was undeniable. Mrs Rogers kissed her daughter on the forehead for the last time when her heart was beating and she was drawing oxygen from that tube. She gave a nod to Doctor Grey and left the room. As she closed the door behind her, she thought that one click of a single switch, the life support - making her heart beat, giving her muscles and brain oxygen and giving her life even when she was apparently not with them any longer - would stop and then she heard it in the profound silence, the soft 'click' and knew that she had given Jesse some peace at last from her constant drudgery and pain since her existence till that moment. Emma signed for her mother to bend over and whispered into her ears, ‘She is in heaven, mom. I can sense her looking at us from there and smiling....’ by Emilia Charles."

The author closed the book and looked up with a sigh. She was surprised to see that the store was crowded with people - some of whom looked simply solemn, some had a tear or two swimming somewhere in their eyes, some were looking at her as though they were seeing a super-natural being while some had mere expressionless faces. She was very happy, her book had received the exact response she had wanted it to. But not a soul had the slightest idea that behind all her smile and happiness, it was not a story but her own life scribbled on a few pages. No one was aware of a mother's heart, who mourned for her daughter, her first child, the one who gave her the joy to be called 'mom' and also the one who fled, the one who got away.....