Unikum mai 2021

Tobias Klausen
Forfatter
…a somber quietness befell the ward, as if it had been
a radio blasting tragedies, and now it was dialed back
to blissful tranquility. The echoes of screeches from
wheels faded, the agonized cries of pain and torment
having died out, the monotonic sound of heavy equipment
buzzed down.
It was simply…peaceful.
Emma strolled down the corridors, wheeling along the
cart containing the many pills for the many diseases.
How strange it was, that these tiny capsules of medicine,
these tiny rays of hope, could save lives. She knew
their chemical compounds, yet that did not unravel the
mysterious power they held. Somehow, if she knew,
this magical illusion would be gone. If we unmasked
everything, revealing its true nature, what wonder
would there be left? Once we see the face of truth, no
matter how ugly or decrepit, we can no longer reject it.
We would be forced to accept it. Thus, we nestle in our
delusion, taking comfort in its obscurity.
At least, that’s what Emma thought as she strolled
along. Until the sudden, loud clank of a metallic tray
interrupted her train of thought.
“M-Miss Asc! W-What are you doing up and about!?”
The widened eyes of Nurse Ratched met Emma’s as she
turned around. The woman looked shocked, frightened
even. But as her eyes connected with Emma’s,
they softened, and the fear evaporated.
“Oh, Emma…it’s just you dear. You looked so much like
one of my coma patients, I was quite positively spooked.
She’s been in a coma for so long she shouldn’t be
up and about if she woke up from it. How tragic, at
such a young age even, not her fault at all I’ve heard.
Life can be so cruel can’t it? Oh, I’m prattling on, aren’t
I? You finish your round dearie, I’ll handle the west
wing tonight, alright? Someone needs to watch the
west wing. You got this wing covered, Emma. You’re
such a diligent, young worker Emma, I’m amazed at
your endurance…”
The weary eyes of Nurse Ratched drifted from Emma
as her worn-out body floated into the corridors, her
figure practically merging with the stiff whiteness surrounding
her. She looked like a ghost; a fading light
dimmed by the many years of watching human suffering.
Emma hoped her spark wouldn’t be extinguished,
that it would live on and ignite the ones around
her with the passion for life. Human life was too valuable
to be snuffed out. Too valuable not to be cherished.
Emma greeted each and every patient with a smile,
all she received in return were empty glares and
mute expressions. The night always seemingly draped
the ward in a constant gloom, as if a witch had cast a
spell, one which broke only at dawn’s radiance. However,
Emma was determined not to let it deter her. If
she could not break it, she would cure it, regardless of
what the remedy was.
Only a few hours into her shift she felt out of breath, as
if the bleak mood was depriving her lungs of oxygen.
She allowed herself a few moments to catch her breath
in one of the chairs residing in a patient’s room.
Across her, the reflection of her own face returned a
tired glare. The heavy bags beneath her eyes revealed
how the many extra hours were taking their toll. As
she brushed a lock of brown hair out of her eyes, the
most peculiar hallucination transpired before her very
eyes. The reflection did not replicate her movement,
it just watched her, expressionless. Yet, it was as if the
reflection’s eyes called for help. Startled, Emma quickly
rose, the reflection still staring dead straight. She
quickly scurried out the room, her heart a locomotive
fueled by the coals of fear.
“Must be seeing things, working too hard. Yes, yes,
that had to be it. Don’t be silly now, can’t dawdle any
further, more people need my help. More people need
me…”
The hours dragged on, and bit by bit, Emma felt the
same gloom creep upon her. As if to smother her consciousness
into the same indifference affecting the patients,
to cast its curse upon her. Despite the determination
of her mind, the flesh was unwilling. From her
medicine trolley, she snuck out a tiny capsule from the
vial marked “Modafinil”. Thievery appalled her, yet
she considered this no act of theft, but an exchange. A
single remedy for her continued efficiency in helping
others. Some leeway must be allowed on this exhausting
road she has taken. She needed her own ray of
hope.
“Miss Lepius! Miss Lepius!”
Startled, Emma lost the capsule and it scurried across
the polished tiles and hid beneath a desk.
“Wh-what is it?” she replied, hiding her guilt in a fit of
coughs.
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