Moonlight Magic

“Hi everyone.” Said Sarah to the nurses behind the desk at the reception area to ward 2 as she put down her well-worn leather satchel-type bag on the floor at her feet.

“Hello.” All three of them replied in unison.

“I hear you had an admission yesterday of an elderly man?”

“Yes.” Replied the nurse sat at the computer. “He’s in the ward down the corridor. He’s a strange one. We all thought he was a homeless guy off the street and was drunk or something, but it turns out he was completely sober. He was suffering from slight hyperthermia but apart from that he’s completely fine…except for the fact that he can’t remember a thing and he’s a little unstable on his feet.”

“Can I go and see him?” Asked Sarah picking up her bag.

“Yes of course. As I said, he’s in the room just down the corridor…the last door on the right. You can’t miss him, he’s the only one in that room at the moment.”

“Thank you ladies.” Said Sarah as she walked down the corridor. She had worked for the Homeless Charity for about ten years now and this is what she loved about the job. Something different every day and of course meeting all the people. She loved people. She could people-watch all day.

As she turned into the wardroom through the open double doors, she could see the old man lying on a bed at the end next to the window with his lower half under the covers. He was wearing the compulsory disposable blue gown that everyone who has been into hospital, or visited anyone in hospital will immediately recognize. It is an essential piece of clothing which not only covers the parts of a patient that other people shouldn’t see and at the same time allowing for easy access to those parts that might need to be examined by the medical staff…but they instantly remove any dignity from the patient by their one-size-fits-all necessity and the fact that it is almost impossible to tie the middle lengths of flimsy fabric together that are meant to hold the garment together, without either snapping them off in your hand or leaving a gaping hole at the back revealing the patients bottom to the world when standing or walking around.

He seemed to be asleep so she approached slowly and tried not to make any noise but her rubber soled shoes insisted on squeaking with every step on the polished linoleum floor. She made it to his bedside without apparently waking him so just stood motionless for a moment looking at him, taking in all the wrinkles and marks on his face given to him over the years from life. His hair was completely white and surprisingly full and bushy. His face was rough with the stubble of a few days growth and even in his present state she could tell he had once been a very handsome man…in fact…still good looking.

Suddenly he spoke.

“I know you’re there.” He said quietly without opening his eyes.

“Ooh.” She exclaimed almost taking a step back. “You made me jump. I thought you were asleep.”

His eyelids slowly lifted to reveal eyes of stunning blue. They looked so full of life and character that for a split second she was mesmerized by his striking gaze.

“Oh…err…sorry. I’m from The Homeless charity and I just thought I’d call and say hello…so…hello.”

“Homeless charity…I’m not homeless.” Said the old man somewhat disgruntled at being labelled homeless, as he pushed himself further up the bed into the stack of four feather pillows covered in heavily starched white linen.

“Is that so?” She said lifting her bag to put it on the bed. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I put my bag on the end of your bed?”

“No…It’s fine.” He replied quietly.

She fumbled around inside her bag and took out a hard-backed, black, A5 sized writing pad and shiny stainless steel pen.

“I’m just going to make some notes as we speak…nothing to worry about…they’re just for me…no-one else. Is that Ok?”

“Yes…but I’d like to know your name if you’re going to be interrogating me.” Said the old man looking her straight in the eye as he leaned towards her.

“Oh. Yes. Of course. My name is Sarah. Sarah Cooper.”

“Hello Sarah. Nice to meet you.”

“You too…Mr…?” She replied smiling and looking at him with that look people give you when they expect you to answer.

He didn’t reply.

“Can I have your name?” She asked.

“Err…it’s…err…I can’t remember.” He replied with the sound of frustration in his voice, giving a cough as he did so.

“Don’t worry.” Said Sarah reassuringly, “I’ve seen this many times before. It can happen if someone has suffered a trauma of some kind.” She looked around the bed and noticed some clothes folded neatly on the hospital-blue hard-backed chair next to his bed. “Are those your clothes?”

“Yes.” He replied looking across at them.

“You remember that much then.” She said standing up from her chair.

“Of course I do Sarah. I was wearing them when I came in. When the ambulance people brought me here.”

“Ok. Look… How about I go through your clothes to see if you have any ID or anything in the pockets. What do you say?”

“Yeh…Ok.” He replied pushing himself up again with his elbows.

Sarah walked around the bed and began lifting his clothes one garment at a time. She could tell from the condition and quality of his clothes that this man was not someone who made his home on the street…but they were in need of a wash. All the clothes were from well-known high street stores and his shoes, although obviously old and worn must have cost more than she earned in a week when they were new. As she folded his trousers, a note of crumpled paper fell onto the floor from one of his pockets. She picked it up and was about to unfold it when she had second thoughts and looked across at the old man who was equally curious about what it was and was now leaning towards her so much he was almost hanging out of the bed. He nodded at her so she unfolded it.

“Come on…what does it say?” He asked hurriedly.

“I’m not sure. It’s a list of dates and times. Look.” She said handing it across to him. “What is it?”

He took hold of the paper and studied what had been written in an old fashioned ink pen by someone…maybe himself. It was very neatly done, written on a piece of heavy duty paper…the type you get from the solicitor detailing documents, or deeds to a house…with columns and headings and a main title written over a few times with the pen that said Dates and Times.

“I…I don’t know. I feel I should know what it is. It feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue…but…I…”

“Don’t worry. It’ll come back to you. It nearly always does.”

“Nearly always comes back Sarah…nearly always. That’s not very good.” He said plonking himself back into his mountain of pillows looking utterly dejected.

Sarah walked back around the bed and put her notebook and pen back into her bag knowing fine well that it was pointless trying to question him any further.

“I think that’s enough for today don’t you?” She said gently laying her hand on top of his. “You try and get some sleep and I’ll come back again soon to see you. Hopefully by that time your memory will have returned and you’ll be ready to go home?”

He didn’t reply and just lay there with his eyes closed. As she turned to go she took a final look at him, only to see tears rolling down his face from his tightly clenched eyelids, through the grey and white stubble of his unshaved cheeks and into the corner of his mouth.

She felt sad for this man but there was nothing she could do. So many times she had felt this way about unfortunate people she met during the course of her work that she had learnt the only way she could get through the day was to distance herself from them and their situation, otherwise by the time the day was over she would be a walking wreck…and today was no different.

Just as she reached the doors to the wardroom she heard him call out.

“Charlie.”

She immediately stopped and spun round to face him.

“Did you say Charlie? Is that your name? Charlie.”

He was still laid propped up on the pillows so he rolled his head towards her and opened his eyes.

“I…I don’t know. The name just popped into my head. Charlie.”

“You see.” Said Sarah with a beaming smile. “I told you it wouldn’t be long before your memory came back…Charlie.”

“I’m not sure.” He mumbled.

“Yes. That’s how it works. You’ve remembered your name…Charlie. The rest will be back in no time.” She turned back towards the doors waving in the air. “Bye Charlie.”

And then she was gone.

The old man lay quietly on his bed with his eyes closed whispering the name Charlie. Charlie. Charlie…over and over again.