Faith (Benjamin's Story)

SO... I wrote this story after a friend of mine was falsely diagnosed with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease). A group of infections in the lungs that make it harder and harder to breathe until you just stop. SO, one day I went to the bathroom at school and was taking a piss but my piss looked a little bit like it had blood in it, it burnt and I felt sick afterwards. I then sat down to write thinking about sickness and my friend at the time and compiled a story that made many people cry. Yes, I am very proud of that. This friend of mine and I had somewhat unintentionally ended our friendship with each other over a reason you might get to see later in this journal. I missed him, and thought about him, and then wrote about him. Don't worry! Him and I reunited as friends (and maybe more) only to have him ended all a month and a half later. It has been a week since him and I last spoke and here I bring to you a story about him (now being apart of my past). 

This letter was written on: 2021-10-31

The following story was written: 2021-05-20

I’m a nurse working in Wisconsin state hospital, and have been working in this occupation for many years. Through these times I had never believed in a ‘higher power’ or had even considered it to be a thought. Many people have come and gone from these beds, some never leaving, but there’s one story that lingers in my mind to this day. And I am sure that it will never leave my mind.

One autumn’s day in the middle of August we were working our regular shifts doing our regular tasks assigned to us. That was until we had received a call from a distressed mother explaining that her eldest son was not breathing. The ambulance rushed away to have come back with the boy strapped to a tank of oxygen, rolling him into ICU with the distressed mother following behind.

“COPD is what he has.” said one of the doctors, “I pulled up his file. He has been here before.” COPD is a Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. A group of lung diseases that block air flow during breathing, and make it very difficult to breath. A victim often last anywhere from five to seven years depending on what stage the disease is at.

The boy was almost instantly admitted into the hospital ‘until further notice’ and was kept on the tank until he soon awoke. He was faint but still alive. He had beautiful blue eyes and ginger hair, but his face was dry and had a small scar along his lip. The mother had to return to work as to gain finance to pay for the bills. I was assigned to him as his nurse.

The following morning was the boys first day of examinations. I walked into the room with his breakfast to find him sitting upright ad staring out the window into the town beyond.  I placed the tray onto the table to which he turned around and with a faint smile said, “Good morning madam.”

His tone was weak but was quite sophisticated for a boy his age.

“Good morning.” I said, trying to sound polite, “How are you today?”

“Positive,” he began to say, “Even with the life I have been given I still prefer to remain positive.”

I gave him a faint smile and hurried out to continue my duties. A little while later the mother came by to visit. I stood by the door way watching as they embraced a warming reunion. They had a good relationship. One you don’t often see within a mother and her son. I always wondered where the father might’ve gone, but I thought better than to ask. The mother then left with welling up tears in her eyes. She’s a strong character, but I could only have thought what might be brewing up inside her mind.

Lunch time had come around, but the boy was sound asleep. The heart monitor was moving at the desired pace that it should, which was good. I placed his lunch on the table to which he awoke quite quickly, as if he was never asleep.

“Good day madam.” He said with much sincerity.

“Good day.” I replied.

The boy broke into conversation with me quite abruptly.

“Your tag says faith on it. Is that your name?” He asked.

“It is indeed,” I replied, “and what is yours?” I asked being polite, as if I didn’t know his name.

“My name is Benjamin,” he began to say, “Just like Benjamin Francolin.”

I gave a small chuckle and said, “Well that’s quite a nice name.”

“I suppose it is,” he replied adding, “But it’s such a common name, don’t you think?”

“They say names form the character and judging by your character, the name suits you.” I said.

“How so?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” I began to say; “It just suits you.”

Soon the doctor came in for his first set of examinations. From that day forward for the following two months, Benjamin had been a lovely light within the hospital and could easily charm his way into many of the nurse’s hearts. Everyone quite loved him.

I remember one day we had a conversation on faith. It was intricate and quite complex with a lot of referencing to arts and humanity. Benjamin was a very intelligent boy and had quite impressed me. His maturity to life only added on to his unbelievable character.

One day the doctor had called his mother in for a meeting. Benjamin had developed stage five COPD and could pass at any given time. The doctor prescribed him a high dose of morphine to ease any pain he could develop, and sent him home. There is no cure. There was nothing we could do.

Over a year had gone by with no word from Benjamin or his mother. He was not forgotten though, and was often in our conversations. Suddenly on an April’s afternoon a familiar face had stormed into the hospital and demanded to speak to a nurse named ‘Faith’. Out I came to be greeted by Benjamin’s mother with welling up tears in her eyes.

“He’s gone.” She said.

My heart had shattered. Many youth have passed within these walls, but this boy was a gift.

“He wanted me to give you this.” She said whilst extending a hand to give me an envelope, sealed with a wax seal with the words ‘faith’ on the front. It had no capital letter to signify a name.

“Would you like to read it with me?” I asked.

“No,” she began to say, “He wanted you to read it.”

I embraced a final heartbroken hug from the mother and walked off into the back where I opened the letter to read its contents.

I gave a small chuckle for I could hear his voice for this is what he said:

Good day madam,

I assume that by the time you are reading this that I have passed on.

Thank you so very much for being as friendly as you were, and allowing us to talk about faith. I can tell it is something you don’t quite believe and agree on, but I hope that one day you of all people will understand that there is life after death.

After all… the name suits you.

With love and sincerity:

Benjamin “Francolin”

©S.F Fernandes 2021