Elizabeth Jensen, 11th, Madrid Jr./Sr. High School, IA, (Fiction) " The Strength to Overcome" As the dimming light made its way through the narrow hospital window, the doctor leaned forward in the violet armchair that sat opposite to his patient, and despite not uttering a word, questioned him with his crude-oil eyes. Though already given the first dose of his IV sedative before the operation, he could see his patient’s green eyes still paling with unwonted anxiety. Still as a statue, he sat, only his eyes betraying his true emotions. Then, finally shattering his stony facade, his face scrunched up and he wrung his clammy hands, “I am so frightened,” the statement hung in the empty air for a moment, but in spite of the fear that appeared to ooze from him, his words were clear, his voice impassioned, but not trembling, and little by little through the silence, the white room began to take on the air of a confessional. The doctor opposite him frowned and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He knew there wasn’t much he could do now, his patient already understood the procedure, it was just the subconscious turmoil that brimmed under his conviction that held him back. It was a remaining storm only he could conquer, "There is nothing to be frightened about during the surgery. I’ve done this a thousand times.” He looked at him with his intensely green eyes, uncomfortable yet resilient, "Doctor--if I can call you by your name for a moment--Nero, I know that you know what you are doing, but I am so afraid." He struggled with how to respond for a moment, “Can you tell me what you are afraid of?” "Just the thought of everything that could go wrong. I've been so close to dying, I still am, but-- I am scared to fall asleep every night. I am scared to close my eyes because what if it is the last time? What if I never get to see my daughter again? These things have wracked my mind for so long. I know you can’t make any promises, that there truly aren’t any assurances, but I so badly wish there were,” he sighed and buried his face in his hands for a moment. Nero struggled, it was true. He could make no promises, no assurances other than what he had already said, but statistics wouldn’t comfort his patient, diagrams and explanations wouldn’t relieve the anxiety that gripped him, “I recognize this must be a difficult time for you and your family. But you have been strong, I am sure she is proud of you. You’ve been the best father you can be.”
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