‘If only…’
A cruel phrase. A phrase devoid of any happiness or love.
It was a phrase he thought of very often.
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Under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital, multiple needles embedded into his skin as he breathed deeply through a nebuliser, the young boy closed his eyes. The sun had set outside and the beams of sunlight that had filtered into his rooms only moments before had now vanished; replaced by a patch of shadows and darkness.
He could hear the buzzing of the monitor on his right side and the bated breaths of his family gathered around him. The lemony smell of sanitiser filled the room, mingling with the acidic smell of medicine and disinfectant.
Outside, a car horned loudly; a cacophony of horns followed, beeping in reply.
The young boy opened his eyes, smiling grimly. He remembered his first day here. He remembered the smell of fresh flowers distracting him as the Doctor whispered furiously with his parents. He remembered the tears sliding down his parents’ cheeks as he whistled absentmindedly, watching a nurse fidget with the buttons on a machine.
“If only…” his father had whispered.
If only what…?
He knew the answer to that question now. If only life had been a little different. If only he could have been treated. If only he had time.
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Age 7:
The sun was high in the sky, a bright rainbow visible amongst the white clouds. The grass was a vibrant green colour dotted with blooming flowers. The young boy was laughing loudly, running behind his father playing a game of tag.
“Haha, come and get me!” his father yelled, dodging sideways.
“I’m going to get you Papa,” the boy replied as he dashed forward.
His mother was sitting on the side under the shade of a large tree, a huge chequered blanket on the floor alongside a wooden picnic basket.
“I’m coming!” the boy yelled, “I’m coming!”
A cool breeze blew in their direction, ruffling the little boy’s dark brown hair.
Suddenly, time seemed to freeze. The boy swayed backwards, a sense of fatigue washing over him. He pursed his lips and he toppled to the floor, a large purple bruise blooming on his left arm.
‘If only…’
His mother rushed forward, concern evident on her long face. “Honey! Honey, are you alright,” she shrieked.
His father was standing there too, worry clouding his usually serene face.
‘If only…’
That was the first day. The day his world turned upside down. The day his timer started ticking.
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Age 12:
It was the routine check up. The one he had to do every year now to make sure it hadn’t come back, to make sure he was okay.
His mother had been crying; her eyes swollen and red. And his father hadn’t been eating recently. They were both scared.
Fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, the boy headed towards the room he had been instructed to go to.
His parents shuffled behind, clutching each other tightly.
Placing his hand on the handle of the door, the boy took a deep breath. It was going to be alright. It would be alright. It had to be.
Pushing the door open, he sat down in front of the doctor.
‘If only…’
If only things had been different that day. Maybe then he wouldn’t have walked out that door with his parents weeping. With his timer ticking once again.
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Present day:
“Honey?” his mother choked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alright,” the boy murmured, breathing deeply.
The curtains had been moved aside and the boy could see faint stars twinkling in the distance, small specks of light in the perpetual darkness.
The boy blinked lethargically, gazing at the multitude of people that were surrounding him. Suddenly, a faint click sounded and the door swung open. A middle-aged woman with black hair entered, her shoes tapping rhythmically against the tiled floors.
“Doctor Gracia,” the boy’s father sobbed, his eyes failing to meet hers.
The Doctor nodded faintly in reply, a grim expression on her face.
“Can I get anything for you?” the Doctor asked.
His parents shook their heads, tears flowing down their faces.
Doctor Gracia surveyed the room solemnly as she moved towards the young boy. Checking the monitor once, she squeezed his hand. “You’re strong. The strongest I’ve ever known,” she whispered, her eyes tearing up.
The boy smiled. “Thank you for everything.”
And then she left, knowing very well that would be the last time she ever saw him.
The room descended into silence once again.
His mother walked towards the bed and the smell of her floral perfume overwhelmed him. “Can we have a minute?” she asked the room. Everyone quickly filtered out, leaving the boy with his parents.
“I love you,” he choked.
“We love you honey,” his dad weeped.
‘If only…’
‘If only…’
‘If only…’
If only things had been different.
And then the monitor flatlined. A loud beeping echoing throughout the room as the boy closed his eyes one last time.
