A Change of Face

Teddy Altman

'There's too much blood.'

We give a life to save another.

'There's no output.'

We're surgeons. It's what we do.

'Stay with me... Stay with me...'

There are those we can fix, those whose hope we can restore...

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

And there are those who aren't so lucky.

'Time of death 8:52pm'

These are the people whom have children, parents or with husbands and wives.

These are the people that suffer the most as hope of life is lost.

These are the people whom are life behind in a sea of grief, with memories they are afraid will at some point fade.

I was one of those people.

I was a wife.

Was.

I used to ask myself every day what I had done to deserve such a wonderful man.

I wasn't a child who ate all her greens or wished for her fairytale ending.

Truthfully, as I grew older and began to see the world for what it really was, I practically gave up on settling down.

Not at any point had I considered leaving my free spirited life behind in favour of a stable home, a stable job or, for that matter, a stable husband.

But there I was, all of a sudden, lost in this life with a man I had barely known a year but felt like I had known almost my entire life. What had started out as business has blossomed into so much more, and had allowed me to become another person I think.

Henry.

He enabled me to discover a passion for something other than surgery. Besides how he felt for me, I guess that was the one other new part of my life I thanked him for.

I had become a person.

I was taking time off from work to paint the house, missing surgeries if my shift had ended to go home for home cooked food and a movie...

Now I can barely find the words to describe how the loss I have felt has changed me once more.

Henry.

My darling husband.

He would hate how I have been blaming myself. I know he would but how can I not?

I should have been there. Damn, maybe even I should have been performing his surgery.

But I wasn't.

I was helping another person, saving their life so they could live to see another day with their family.

I was helping them when I should have been helping him.

How should that not haunt me?

I feel that guilt with every flutter in my chest, and with every gentle close my eyes take as I move through the day, knowing they won't capture another image of him. At times, I barely feel like I can breathe.

But I guess that's normal right?

I'm a mess just like any other ordinary wife would be.