Medical
Translations
By
Mary
O'Donnell
Vincent had
been a Doctor for a solid five years, enough time to get experience
in dealing with the pit falls of the job. He had told more than his
fair share of family members that their loved ones were beyond
saving, that he had failed. But Vincent had never truly understood
how devastating the words 'I'm sorry, we've done everything we can,'
could be until the specialist in charge of Brian's case put his hand
on his shoulder and spoke in that low sorrowful tone that made the
world turn into shadows and dreams of a desperate man. At the age of
six how could his son be so sick, how could cancer be eating away at
his little boy's body who had his mother's soft trusting brown eyes?
“We can make
him comfortable, it's all about pain management at this point.”
Jerry said, his gray eyes looked down in sadness and shame.
“We're Doctors!
It's our job to do something! Don't tell me there's nothing you can
do!” Vincent said as tears filled his dark eyes and his thin hands
pushed Jerry, an older shorter man with graying hair, out of his way.
As he walked away he couldn't think as the shadow filled his mind. It
had to be a mistake, this couldn't be happening in his reality.
“Vincent...I'm
sorry! I really am!” Jerry called after him but Vincent was already
heading out of the hospital doors. Vincent walked out of the building
and then leaned against the side of the outside far wall; it was cold
and the red brick bit in to his slender back. He could feel that he
was breathing too quickly but he couldn't bring himself to care
enough to stop. How was he supposed to tell his wife that their son
was going to die and there was not a damned thing he could do to stop
it? He couldn't accept that!
Not even an hour
later Vincent entered a large dark room and closed the door behind
him.
“Nik I know
you're here, I have to talk to you!”Vincent said with confidence,
the lab smelled sterile but not even the alcohol could hide the hint
of rotting. There was a large metal table in the middle of the room
where Nik played with his dead friends.
“I thought you
didn't want to talk to the nutter?”Nik answered in his thick London
silky accent and deep tone that resonated from the shadowed area of
the lab. He slowly pulled off blood soaked gloves as he came further
into the light. Nik was an older man, tall and looked as if at one
time he had been a powerful physical force. But now his hair was
silver and his back was hunched making him look shorter than he
really was.
“Look don't
pretend you don't know why I'm here, you always know.” Vincent said
his tone impatient and direct. Nik smiled as he turned to face
Vincent, his apron bloody as well but he made no attempt to remove
it.
“Your son. Well
I don't have the 'abilities' I used to. I can't help you.” Nik said
and then turned away with an unreadable look on his wrinkled face.
“My son is
going to die and you are going to help me, you owe me!” Vincent sad
his voice raising in fear of losing his last hope. Nik stopped and
then chuckled softly. Vincent's eyes narrowed and was just about to
lunge at the other man no matter his age but Nik turned around and
began to speak.
“Yes I guess I
do owe you for still being allowed to work in the dismal place. I was
telling the truth, I can't save your boy, but I can give you the
chance to try.” Nik said with a skeptical look on his face, Vincent
knew he hated this man for a reason. But what choice did he have?
“There's a
small storage area in the basement. Look around and try your luck.”
Nik said and then walked away without another word. Vincent wasn't
sure what the hell kind of help he was just given but he was too
desperate to ignore it. Vincent knew that it was too late to go
digging around there right now, and he needed to go and spend time
with his son.
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