The Two Kinds of Decay

Juan

The morning of my fourth vascular surgery, I was awakened earlier than usual.

A new man entered my room. This is what he said to me, very slowly:

Hello. My name is Juan. One of my jobs. Is to deliver patients. To the operating room for surgery. Are you ready.

He looked at me and I saw that he believed his job, my life, and our time together were important.

And so looking back at him I said, I’m ready.

He reminded me to remove any jewelry or watches, and he took my watch off my wrist because my hands were paralyzed and I hadn’t remembered to ask a nurse to do it for me the night before.

And then he transferred me from my hospital bed onto a gurney and wheeled the gurney out of my room, down the hall, into the elevator, out of the elevator, and into the presurgical ward, and then disappeared, without saying a word and standing up very straight the whole time.