7 South

Almost a year had passed and I had got accustomed to the Covid patients in and out. By the Grace of God, I’ve never got infected. I don’t know what was worse seeing so many people die or hearing their stories. It had gotten to a point I didn’t want to know. My heart was exhausted.

One story stood out. He was one of our many John Doe’s that came through the emergency doors. Being a nurse in 2020 had to be worse than being a soldier during the civil war. He was picked up at a restaurant barely responding. Having a hard time breathing. He had no wallet; no form of identification and he was fighting for his life. When he first arrived in the hospital that night something about him stood out. It wasn’t just another patient.

I had gone numb. Death had become a daily task I endured on a daily basis. I could no longer hear the screams over the phone when I had to inform families or family members cursing me out upset, they couldn’t be there due to hospital guidelines and Covid. I learned to take nothing personal. I was a soldier. The chaos around me couldn’t compete with the bombs going off in my head nothing was personal. “It was what it was at this time”.

The fear I held inside was like no other I had family to go home to but I knew I had to help. This is what I signed up for. This patient was a bit different. He was dressed in a dark green suit and silk white tie. He was well groomed and I could smell the scent of expensive cologne. He had broad shoulders. He almost looked like a bodyguard for the CIA.

Days had passed and I tended to the unresponsive stranger. My curiosity killed the fear. Especially overhearing the Doctor talking about disconnecting the life support the only thing he had hanging on to life. No one had called. He seemed so important. I began to feel bad for him his family. I looked through the bag of his belongings and there was a phone that was locked, some keys with no name on them and a little black book.

It looked like he had it for a while by the variety of artwork in the opening pages flowers affirmations prayers scribbles almost like a tattoo sleeve embossed over the opening of what could be “John Doe” story. I turned the page.

His handwriting was neat and everything was incursive. It was legible unlike a doctor's script but still of the rank of importance. In the middle of the chaos in the book he had splattered across the page I noticed a name “Sarah” oddly which is my name yet a common name.

My heart sank who was Sarah and why wasn’t she here with him? At least called to look for him. Sweat trickled down my forehead as anxiety set in. I felt I was invading his privacy and I would get caught but I couldn’t stop. I wiped my forehead with the back of my sleeve and cleared my throat and proceeded to look through the strangers lil black book.

I was startled when the Dr came in with the book in my hand. I put it down and went to the other side of the bed to document his fading vitals. My eyes were welled with tears. I had no clue where they came from. I knew I had to keep it together so I turned away.

The Dr didn’t notice. He had checked out months ago. He used to be the happiest person I knew, always smiling. Shell shock is what I think it is. He has seen the worse of the worse. We finally exchanged a glance. His forehead was wet with sweat. He hurriedly wiped it and walked out the room. I'm sure he was thinking the same thing I was “I hope it's not Covid”.

I opened the lil black book back up and sat on a chair. I flicked through the pages a picture and a lottery ticket fell out. The picture was old the lady was dressed as if it was the early 30’s, 40’s. I though it must have been his mother. My shift was ending. I tucked the ticket in my back pocket and left his room.

My legs were tired from walking the halls 16 straight hours. I needed some water and food. I was exhausted. I pulled up and did my routine of changing clothes in the garage leaving everything in a bag. I grabbed the ticket out first and put it in my wallet. After my long shower I finally laid down in the guest room. I still steered clear of my Husband and son to be safe.

I laid in the bed and my head began to pound. Not just any pound like someone had a hammer inside. I took some aspirin and went to sleep. I was surprised I woke up so late and in a pile of sweat. I began to panic. Ran in the bathroom and took my temperature. It was normal. I just had a long day I thought to myself. Although my body wasn’t agreeing, I got dressed and left for work.

I stopped at my usual gas station on the way and grabbed two scratch offs. I remembered the ticket I had and scanned it at the self-scan kiosk. I scanned it three times. I couldn't believe what it read. $20,000. I put the ticket back in my wallet. My hands were shaking. I drove the whole time excited I would be able to give the ticket to “John Doe”

. I get to 7 South the Covid unit and began checking the patients I had on my list. John Doe was third. Unfortunately, it only took minutes to get to his room. The others two on my list had passed away. Walking in John Doe’s room wasn’t any different. He had passed away as well. The room had already been clean ready for the next patient.

I looked around no bag. No little black book. I cleared my throat choked up. I walked out back to the warzone and proceeded. My head still hurt and my stomach was in knots. Sweat beaded down my face and my breathing became short.

I sat in the break room exhausted feeling like I got hit by a truck. As others came in and noticed they called for help and I was rolling down 7South to a room that would occupy me. They hooked me up to a respirator. I could tell I was fading away. I motioned for my purse and handed the nurse the ticket without any words.