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The
Relished Touch
Every day starts the same. He wakes up from his long slumber
and watches life move forward as his simply stays still. Sure there are some
that scurry away from him, who wants to talk to the immobile mute? Life is
agony for him. There are days he even wishes for death; sure he cherishes all
the fond memories of the life he once had. Those were the best days of his life
until his incident.
It has been many years since the incident. He now resides in
the care of others; primarily people who don’t care whether he lives or dies.
He is just a room number to them, a burden to their workload and the heftiness
in their day. Everything must be done for him. Catheter changes, colostomy bag
changes, showers, he must be flipped every few hours to prevent bed sores, all
while being restrained to the bed railings. What is it that they still feared
after so many years, that his mobility would return? That his spine would
simply heal?
He often craves to stand up and walk to the window. To just
see how the world has changed, evolved. He yearns to speak and yell. Flex his
now motionless muscles. The mere things he took for granted like his morning
jogs he used to loathe; he now wishes for. The chit chat of idle conversation that
he tried to avoid at all costs he now wishes he could join in on. So much of
life he has taken for granted. He longed to take a mid day stroll in the
spring, smell the freshly cut grass, gaze at all the life that sprouts from the
ground and makes life colorful.
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