Story 18 // Final Decisions

Beep, beep, beep...

The old man was deep in thought over a spot on the wall. His hand absentmindedly rested on the front cover of the bible by his bed. The title was faded, but the binding looked like it had barely been opened. The pages still looked crisp and new. His arm was bruised from the IV, with scars from IV's past farther up. His white hair was tousled in a forever bed head style, and his hospital gown looked well worn. Even though he was inside all day, his complexion still had a slight tan, making him look healthier than he was. At 81 years old, he had two weeks left to go, give or take a couple hours. This was it.

"You gonna read that, or just feel the spirit through the cover?"

The old man didn't hear his roommate wake up, and he didn't like that. He used to pride himself on his excellent hearing, but that quickly faded after 75. He looked down at the book he was touching. It was going to be now or never, he thought. What's it going to be? Decision time.

His young roommate had a perfectly bald, egg-shaped head. The pale skin around his eyes didn't have a wrinkle on them yet, but it might never get the chance. His cancer was progressing quicker than the old man's. Unless this new treatment kicked in soon, he wasn't going to make it. But he knew the risks, knew them all his life. After spending countless years here at Mercy General, it just about felt like home. He had lived his life knowing that everyday was a blessing, and acted accordingly. For what he was up against, he was very level headed.

"Are you going to finally decide today?" - the kid asked, gesturing towards the bible.

The old man was still, then shook his head from his absent stare down of the wall, and answered, "I...just thought...I would have more time than this to decide."

"Wait, you want more time? How much time have you had already?! How old are you?" -the kid sat up a little bit from his pile of pillows. He was getting tired of having this conversation.

The old man thought about this, and immediately felt selfish. How could he ask for more time, especially with this sick kid right next to him? But he didn't feel like it was time for him to go either. It's a weird feeling, being told when the end will come. When the lights are going to be shut off, the doors closed and locked up for good. What if he beats the odds and lives longer? Then he can decide, then he will know if he wants to finally believe, or not. He just needed more time to think about it...