I wrote this for my grandpa, as he passed away in September of 2010.
Chapter Two; Jakobie
I patrolled the hallways of the ICU at Union Hospital. My normal routine. I stopped in the nursery in the ICU to check on Kaytlyn, a four month premature baby. She was hanging on for dear life, not willing to give in. I recently heard the nurses saying that she took a turn for the worse, so I thought a visit would be in order. Walking through the corridors to the nursery, I thought about that girl. How she would enjoy many more years with her grandfather. It made me giddy inside.
I found Kaytlyn in her usual spot; in the incubator, belly down, tubes crisscrossing her naked body. I peeked in, and saw her precious face, spoiled by a tube in her throat. She had her pink little hat on, keeping her fuzzy head warm. I looked around and saw her mother wasn’t there. She usually was. The clock said four thirty PM, so she probably wasn’t off work yet.
I carefully opened the door on the incubator, slipped my hand inside, and gingerly touched the infant’s tiny head. “Hang in there,” I whispered. I heard a door open, so I shut the door quickly. I turned and saw the nurses and Kaytlyn’s mother come in. I simply walked by them, knowing they knew nothing of my presence.
I soon became the unknown protector roaming the halls. As I walked, I looked in each room, seeing if I was needed. It broke my heart to see kids in beds with dozens of monitors and wires and tubes burying them. I saw happy families, sad ones, and occasionally, mad ones. Every time someone yelled that a bed was coming through, I checked to see if I should follow. Most times I didn’t, and only went with the most severe.
I seemed to get attached to people so much that I wanted to be the one to walk them to the Other Side, despite the fact that it would be the first time they had seen me for some people. I always get the ‘that’s-not-the-angel-that-I-was-expecting’ thing. Well, diversity colors the world. Everyone’s different. Why should that only apply to mortals?
That’s no fun.