A story about a little boy in the hospital. He is very sick, and nobody comes to see him except one caring nurse who comes every day after her shift ends.
The little boy lies sleeping under the covers, which are pulled up to his chin; and his short red hair sticks up haphazardly all over his head. He has an I.V. line in one thin, pale hand, and oxygen prongs rest in his nostrils, to aid his breathing, which is slightly labored from the effects of double pneumonia. He is abnormally thin, and he is small for his age; he appears to be about four years in age.
The little boy has AIDS. His name is Matthew, and he is six years old. He had a family, but when they found out that he had AIDS, they, more or less, abandoned him; and now he has nobody.
Nobody except me, that is. And I am just a nurse.
Matthew's history is sketchy; but he has been fighting AIDS for several years now. His mother had apparently used drugs before she had him, and she contracted AIDS; and she passed it on to her baby son. When she found out that he, too, had AIDS, she decided that she didn't want him any longer, so she abandoned him.
Matthew is currently in foster care; and he has been in and out of the hospital throughout his young life; and he is a very shy, quiet boy with huge brown eyes and a shock of fiery red hair and a mass of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He is a beautiful little boy, but life has already been unkind to him. He hardly smiles; and the only time he smiles is when he sees me when I get off from work. I visit Matthew before I go home for the day--that is, if I am not visiting one of my OWN children if they happen to be in the hospital.
I happen to know that Matthew loves chocolate chip cookies; so I always try to bring him some when I see him after I get off work. He also loves to look at picture books, and I happen to know that he is crazy about Rolie Polie Olie. He also loves to play with his toy trucks, and he loves to color; but most of the time he lies in bed and sleeps.
Today, when I see Matthew, I am disconcerted at the sight of his pale, frail frame, and the fact that he is having some difficulty breathing. He looks sicker than recent days; and it alarms me. I can't put my finger on it, but I feel that he isn't going to be around much longer. He is so pale; and he is so weak.
He usually has a smile for me when I see him, but today, he doesn't stir under the covers, and he remains asleep. I touch his forehead gently, and he stirs; but he doesn't open his eyes. His forehead is damp with perspiration, and I can feel the fever burning underneath my fingertips. He is really sick.
Something inside my heart tells me that he won't be around much longer and that he is dying. It is when I make the decision to talk to him about Jesus when he awakens because I know he would want to hear about how He loves the little children and that He can give the little boy a chance to go to Heaven before he dies. I know he would love to hear about Heaven and being among the angels.
ohhhh, how heartbreaking...karen, you do have a way of making us see the world through your characters, like they are real people...you wind up caring for them, and wanting to read more about them in your excellent writes! (((HUGS))) and love, karla. :(
Rovella is a beautiful woman with a cold heart whom blames herself for an unfortunate old family secret that is literally ruining her life. This secret impedes a gorgeous woman from having happiness in her childhood, and throughout her life. Dark sec
