TOMORROW WE'LL KNOW

Ralph never saw his enemy.  For more than two years, he wrestled and struggled with his insidious foe, until the embattled warrior lay weak and wasted, his cunning enemy entrenched and indestructible.  The evil, haughty laughter of the victor may have been discernible in the room were it not for the rhythmic gurgling of the aspirator tube in Ralph’s rib cage.

Bev hit the window with her fist.  “Damn you! You ugly monster!  You’re going to win!” she cried, tears of hurt fear and anger streaming down her face.  The vastness of the city with its millions of tiny flickering lights failed to spark the excitement as it had five years before.  Ralph’s battle and the taunting of his clever enemy had dulled her senses and corroded her spirit.

She looked back across the dimly lit room.  The “troops” were huddled around the bed planning another maneuver.  Ralph had fought the front line, but his tiny platoon had been behind him supporting him with every weapon at their disposal.  Now they were bruised and bloodied from the battle.  The fear of impending defeat reflected in their eyes but not one was willing to surrender.  They refused to speak of defeat.  Their leader had taught them well.

R.P. moved around the end of the bed, snapped up the clipboard to record Ralph’s temperature and stood waiting for Laurie to provide him with the pulse rate.  The piece of paper towel on the clipboard was a crude substitute for a patient’s chart.

“It’s the only way we’ll know what’s happening,” Laurie said as she held her fingers to Ralph’s wrist to check his pulse rate.

Rachelle knelt down at the side of the bed to determine the flow rate of the lung aspirator as Kathy prepared to open another lemon swab to moisten Ralph’s parched lips and tongue.

“We’re going to watch Star Trek with you tonight, Dad,” Kathy said, hoping for a response.  He had been in a coma before and rallied, “It could happen again,” she thought.

Ralph’s enemy had led them through some rough terrain.  They had been conditioned to the peaks and valleys of the path they had trod.  Kathy was convinced there would be another peak.

“Can you squeeze my hand, Dad?” she asked, as she held his hand in hers.  She looked up at Bev and felt the need to explain his lack of response, “He just needs to sleep now,” she said, trying to sooth Bev’s hurt as much as her own.

“Mom, why don’t you go home and rest tonight, we’ll be here to take care of Dad,” Rachelle said.

“Yes, I’ll go home, but not right now.  I’ll just go up to the waiting room for a little while,” Bev said, not wanting to go home.    She had shared home with Ralph for 33 years.  He had been her protection from the cold chill of the northwest wind and she shivered at the thought of being alone without that barrier, without his love.

“Please, God, don’t let Ralph have any more seizures,” she prayed, “He has suffered enough.  Just let the medication work now.  I’m not going to ask you to make him well. That can’t be part of your plan for him.  I know I have to accept his dying, but please, just don’t let him have any more seizures.”

Bev felt relieved.  “I’m not asking for a miracle,” she thought, “just a little mercy.  Ralph is a good person.  God is surely aware of his faith.  God may view mine as a little sketchy at times, but not Ralph’s.  If God won’t do this for me, He will for Ralph.”