Creative Non-Fiction by Cali Hugelen
1st Place for College Creative Non-Fiction - 2019 Met AwardsThey say it is inherited. The public shame the individual for their vulnerabilities. Everyone believes it is an imaginary enemy. No one knows they have no idea; unless you are the one fighting it. I don’t even know. But he does, all too well.
He lies in a stark beige bed, with basic bedding, in a virtually empty room. I sit, staring at absolutely nothing. The monitors occasionally beep, playing the rhythm of his heartbeat. A ventilator positioned next to the bed breaths the life into him. His vulnerability is heartbreaking. He was my superman.
I stare out the only window in the room. I notice the burnished silver fountain in the middle of the courtyard as I watch the water cascade down the levels. My mind wanders back to the surprisingly sunny day on the Washington beach. The officiant was rambling on about what it meant to become husband and wife, how we were two becoming one. Still, to this day, I don’t remember all of what she said. I was too busy watching him and looking into his eyes.
This man that was about to become my husband was so strong and insanely intelligent. He had high self-esteem, great self-worth, and was popular among his co-workers and our friends. Everyone thought highly of him. Our future looked so bright together.
I find it ironic that on that day, for a predominantly cloudy and gloomy location, the sun was shining, and the rain had subsided. I was certain that it was a sign of our future. However, the cloudy gloominess was still there. It just wasn’t visible for anyone to see.
The once outgoing man started to withdraw, no one noticed. The once happy man no longer smiled, no one noticed. His self-esteem was gone, and the sciamachy was starting to take over. The bright future’s light started to dim. No one noticed. But me.
He became a patient to several doctors, but he was clever and knew just what to say. The uncanny ability to deceive people was startling. Did I fall for the same tricks? No one would listen. Maybe I was going crazy, maybe all that I noticed was just in my head. It couldn’t be, though. Could it? I swear, some days he would talk nonsense, mindless babble, and when I looked in his eyes, he was not there. The man’s eyes I looked into on my wedding day were different; they were gone. Then again, I could just be talking drivel.
It was almost like watching a play at a theater; every day, the stories were different. The ups and downs and mood swings were like riding a wickedly out-of-control roller coaster. No matter how much I screamed, no one would stop the ride. Maybe I didn’t scream loud enough.
The urgent beeping brought me back to the cold, bare hospital room. I noticed his eyes, the ones I remembered, were open with a look of confusion. I screamed for the nurse; this time it was loud enough. After seven days of lifelessness, he woke up. Like the superman, I knew he astonished the doctors. Just a few days before, his doctor had sat me down and told me I needed to start making end of life decisions.
My body went limp, and now I was the vulnerable one. A nurse I didn’t even know held me as I uncontrollably broke down. I repetitively asked her why and how. I was so unsure of what to do. She just held me and let me cry. My tears flowed like water in the fountain of the courtyard. I never made a final decision. I couldn’t.
His actions seven days prior were not made by a stable individual, he was not in his right state of mind. He was not thinking about anyone that day; he couldn’t; he was lost. The roller coaster had derailed without the help of anyone. One severe and hasty decision nearly cost him his life. The once strong and happy man is still fighting the ride on the roller coaster. He is still smart; nonetheless, his brain doesn’t quite function like it used to. He will never be the same man I married on a sunny day in Washington because of the enemies he battles that no one can see. No one but me.
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