A Final Wish
No, I wont ever make it home John sighed heavily, his body wracked with pain. And Ill never see Emily again. I was going to propose to her. Didnt manage to do it Why did this have to happen to me?
Dont be so anxious, the nurse said kindly, noticing how pale the young man looked as he lay in the back of the ambulance. Youll be just fine.
I doubt it John managed to whisper.
Then he stared in silent terror as the hospital staff prepared him for surgery.
*****
John had never cared for hospitals.
His dislike for them started in childhood they always seemed to cause him pain, and worst of all, no one ever bothered to apologise afterwards.
Oh come now, Johnny, dont be such a baby! the nurse used to say, swabbing his finger before a blood test. Youre a big boy now, off to school soon, but youre crying like a little girl. Arent you ashamed?
John would look at her through tears, wriggling and wailing, because there was simply no escape from the treatment room. No, shame wasnt what he felt it was pain and a sense of injustice.
On the way home from the GP with his mum, he swore up and down that he would never, under any circumstances, go to the hospital again.
Id rather die than set foot in there again! John declared dramatically.
Dont say that, darling, soothed his mother. Doctors are there to help you get better, to keep everyone healthy. Theres nothing to be afraid of.
Yeah, tell that to someone else, John sniffed, cradling his finger, feeling like half his life had been drained away.
You can imagine his feelings when his parents dragged him to the dentist to have a tooth out. He’d screamed so loudly that even people on the street could hear him, despite the closed window.
All things considered, hospitals brought back nothing but unpleasant memories for John.
So, unsurprisingly, even as an adult, he avoided doctors and hospitals at all costs.
But as luck would have it, John still ended up in hospital for appendicitis.
The pain doubled him over so much that his girlfriend Emily, whom he planned to take out for dinner, had no choice but to call an ambulance.
You dont need to ring for an ambulance, Ill be alright in a minute he pleaded with her.
Dont be silly! I can see youre really not well. Seems like youve got appendicitis Ive had it, and its just like this.
So, John (again not by his choice) wound up in St Thomass Hospital.
You can imagine how he felt…
The thought of surgeons fussing about inside him depressed him no end. When he glimpsed two porters silently wheeling away a covered body down the corridor, he was overwhelmed by a sense of doom.
Thats it, I wont make it home John thought, wrestling with pain. And I’ll never see Emily again. I was going to propose Never got a chance. Why does life do this to me?
Honestly, you mustnt fret so, the nurse tried to cheer him up. Youll be alright.
Im not so sure
No need to worry. Its a straightforward operation, and you got here in time. If youd left it longer, there might have been complications.
As it turned out, the operation went smoothly, just as promised. No unexpected drama, no pain. For the first time in years, John left the hospital feeling almost positive about the place.
He drifted off on the operating table and woke up after the worst was over. By evening, he was back in a ward, out like a light, only stirring briefly whenever his drip was changed.
Morning came
and John discovered he was sharing the ward with an elderly man.
Just what I need, he thought irritably. Hell probably start chatting about his life and never stop
He didnt feel like talking to anyone at all. All he wanted was peace and quiet. He didn’t even call Emilyjust sent her a quick message to say all was well, then tucked the phone under his pillow and reflected on the timing of it all.
Hed lived with Emily for over a year now, and last night he had planned to propose. Hed booked a table in a cosy restaurant, arranged for the band to play her favourite song, even prepped the waiter to bring out the ring on a dessert plate.
John wanted everything to be perfect.
But fate had other ideas. Instead of being with his girlfriend, discussing their future wedding, here he was, stuck in hospital with an old man for company.
To Johns great amazement, the pensioner didnt bother him with idle chat.
He simply greeted him and returned to his own thoughts, mumbling under his breath whenever he failed to reach someone on the phone. All afternoon and evening, the old man tried to call, until finally his phone died.
He didnt have a chargerleft it at home in the rush.
None of the staff could find one for such an old brick phone either.
When the little phones screen went black, tears quietly rolled down the mans cheeks. John felt awkward, even a little ashamed for his earlier assumptions. Clearly, the man was carrying a real burden.
After a while, John forced himself to sit up, not wanting to lie down while talking, and asked the old man if everything was alright.
I cant get through to my son, the pensioner replied with a sad smile.
He doesnt know youre in hospital? John was baffled.
He does The nurse called him when I arrived. But he still wants nothing to do with me. We fell out about six months ago. Just before my birthday. He wanted to send me to a care home and sell my house, but I refused. Not that its about the house
The old fellow told John about how hed landed in hospital after a heart scare a few days prior. The doctors had stabilised his condition but insisted surgery was necessary.
Its scheduled for the day after tomorrow, he said with resignation. But Im worried I wont even make it to the table.
Oh, come on, said John, eager to reassure him. Doctors do amazing things. Look at mehad my appendix out yesterday, and Im all in one piece!
The man managed a smile but didnt explain the difference between appendicitis and a failing heart.
My dogs all alone, he added quietly. Left him out in the street. I wanted my son to look after Patch if well, if the worst should happen. Or at least find him a good home. But my neighbours already have enough animals and wont look. My son could have done that much, especially as hed be getting my house, the one hes so eager to sell. But he wont answer my calls. Even when the nurse rang, he refused to speak to me. Thats my boy
John found himself affected by the old mans worry for his dog.
Whatll happen to Patch? Wholl look after him? How will he cope on his own?
A funny old thing, worrying more about his dog than his heart surgery, thought John. But as he listened to the pensioner recount how he and Patch found each other, his attitude shifted completely.
I found him on my birthday six months ago, the old man said softly. My wife God rest her soul passed away five years back, and we had no one else. The night before my birthday, I dreamed of her, walking a dog. She waved and smiled. The next day, I found this little dog, tied to a railing outside the shop in the cold and rain. Waited ages to see if anyone would come for him, but no one did. So I took him in. Feels like she sent him to keep me company.
John nodded, deciding it best to agree, if only to comfort his ward mate.
We got along straight away, the old man went on. I tried to find his old owner put up flyers all over town. No one came. In the end, I was glad. Patch isnt just a pet. Hes more than a friend Hes become my reason for getting up every day, really.
That night, John lay awake thinking about the little dog on the street, and about the son who ignored his fathers calls.
How could someone be so heartless, knowing their own father was in hospital and still not bothering to answer?
Later, John dreamt of a forlorn-looking mutt, much like Patch, wandering the streets as though searching for someone, while John followed close behind, unsure whybut knowing it was important.
He woke abruptly to the sound of the old man gasping, clutching his chest.
Shall I get the nurse? John jumped up.
No, not yet the old man rasped. Call my sonSimon. The numbers there, on the bedside table. Tell him to come, if he can… Id like to say goodbye. And if he doesnt or wont, tell him to look after Patch. Its all I ask. I just want to go knowing Patch will be alrightthat he wont be left all alone.
Struggling with what to do, John grabbed his phone, unfolded the crumpled note with shaky hands, and dialed the number scrawled in untidy handwriting.
Hello! Is this Simon? Im your fathers roommate here on the ward
He nearly said the old mans full name, only to realise that theyd never actually introduced themselves.
George Atkinson, the old man supplied hoarsely.
George Atkinson, John continued. Hes not wellits urgent that you come, if you can.
Hes dying, is he? Simons tone was startlingly brisk. Which hospital? St Thomass, right? I forget.
Yes, St Thomass. Ward Three, Room 314, John replied, giving him the address.
John tossed the phone aside and dashed down the hall for the nurse, who fortunately wasnt hard to find. Soon, shed rushed in with the duty doctor.
How are you, Mr Atkinson? John asked in a trembling voice, taking Georges hand. The nurse is fetching a doctor. Dont give up nowfight a little longer. Your sons on his way. Just hold on, Mr Atkinsonkeep your eyes open
But Georges heart gave out before the doctor arrived.
The doctor checked his pulse, touched his neck, peered at his pupils, and muttered under his breath as he left. Not long after, the porters John had seen before appeared to wheel George away.
*****
Your father died, really, practically in my arms, John told Simon when he arrived the next morning.
Well, at least its over quickly, Simon said, flat as a pancake. Nobody suffered too long. Not me, anyway. You know how it isold people linger, and youre supposed to look after them, but theres never any time. Ive got my own family now, my job So, like I said, its for the best.
Your fathers last wish was for you to find a good home for Patch, John added.
What, the dog? Simon scoffed. Oh, that mutt he brought home? Whod want it? He even refused to go into a care home because of that dog. I kept saying hed be better off, well looked after! No luck
That was your fathers last request, John said quietly, his face grave. Could you not honour it? Especially now the house you wanted so much is yours.
Simon shot John a strange look, scooped up his father’s battered phone and the slip with his number on it, and left without another wordno farewell, just the slam of a door.
John lay back on his bed, deep in thought. He felt sorry for old Mr Atkinson. Seventy-seven wasnt all that ancient. People lived to ninety or even a hundred these days. He could have had years left, if life were fair.
But life is a strange thing. Now even the loyal little dog was left without a loving home.
Simon will probably just sell the house and throw Patch to the street, John pondered. Maybe hell get a bit of food from neighbours but maybe not.
That night, John had a dream. He saw Mr Atkinson walking the streets, calling for his dogcalling and calling, but Patch never came, and tears ran down the old mans face.
John watched from the sidelines, unable to hold back his own tearseven though he couldnt recall the last time hed cried so freely, not since hed sworn never to cry like a girl.
These uneasy dreams followed him even after he came home. Every morning, he woke pensive, and Emily couldnt help but notice.
John, are you okay?
Im finejust thinking.
About what?
That old man I shared a ward with. He came in with a heart attack, needed an operation, but didnt survive. He left a dog, Patch, all on his own.
No family to take the dog? Emily asked.
Only his son, but they werent speaking. Mr Atkinson kept ringing him, but Simon never answered. I got to tell him about Patch, but I dont think he cares. He was more interested in the house than the doghe was on the phone to an estate agent, already asking how quickly he could sell. Makes me sad about the dogeven though I never saw him, I bet he was lovely, seeing what a good man Mr Atkinson was.
Why dont we go and look for him? Emily suggested. If the dogs still about, well take him in.
Really? You wouldnt mind having a dog?
Of course not. I think it would be brilliant. Wed take him on walks together, too.
Yeah John smiled and kissed her. Wait, we dont even know the address?
Theyll have it on record at the hospital, Emily said, confident. Leave it to me. But lets stop for some chocolate and a nice jar of coffee on the way.
Turned out a tin of proper coffee and some chocolate could work wondersthe lady at the hospital desk had no intention of giving out private information, but with a little sweet-talking (and chocolate), and when John explained why they needed Mr Atkinsons address, she discreetly scribbled it on a scrap of paper.
An hour later, John and Emily pulled up to the old mans house. They walked along the picket fence, peered in through the gatebut there was no sign of a dog.
A woman from the neighbouring house came out to meet them.
Hello, are you lost or looking for someone? she asked. No one lives there now.
I know, John replied. I met Mr Atkinson in hospital. He died while I was with him.
Oh, you poor things He was a good mana proper gentleman. They dont make them like him anymore. May he rest in peace. His son didnt even hold a proper funeral, can you believe it? He just buried him quietly and now plans to do up the house to sell it for more.
Im not surprised, knowing Simon But have you seen his dog, Patch? He used to worry about him so much.
Patch? Yes, he hardly left the gate, just sat there watching the road, waiting for Mr Atkinson to come home. He wailed for nights after George passed. I tried to care for him as much as I could Simon came and took him away, shouted at him something awful. Hasnt been back since. I guess hes gone back to wherever he lives.
You dont know where he took Patch? And whats he look like?
Small thing, sweet face. Oh! I have a photo on my phonehang on. She showed John and Emily the picture.
Thats a corgi! Emily exclaimed. Adorable. Did Simon say who took him?
I asked, of course. He just said hed found him a home. But Simons never liked animals. Hard to believe such a good man could have such a cold fish for a son. More fox than son, that one
They thanked her, then set off, both heavy-hearted.
If only theyd got there sooner, maybe they could have rescued Patch. Now, who knew where the dog was, or what had happened? Best-case scenario, Simon found him a new owner. Worst-case, he left him by the side of the road.
They drove round local streets asking passers-by about a stray corgi, but no one had seen him. When John tried to call Simon, his number had been blockedall calls rejected, messages undeliverable.
Well just have to hope Patch is alright, Emily said softly, glancing at Johns troubled face. She understood there was little hope, but sometimes its easier to look on the bright side.
And then destiny stepped in once more.
They got caught in a traffic jam, so Emily swung off down the bypass. After a few miles, she slowed and pointed to a little dog sitting by the side of the roaduncannily like the corgi in the photo.
John, could that be Patch?
Looks a lot like him. Lets see.
They stopped and cautiously walked over. As they got closer, they were sure it was him.
Patch! John called, voice bright with hope. Patch!
The dog, sitting with his back to them, startled, turned around, and gazed at them with a mixture of awe and confusion.
Thats him! John said, making his way forward. Dont worry, PatchI was friends with Mr Atkinson, and he asked me to look after you. Would you like to come home with us?
He crouched, holding out a hand.
Patch studied John suspiciouslynaturally, as he was a strangerbut soon, Patch froze, and then sniffed carefully. There was no mistake: he recognised the scent on Johns hands.
They still faintly carried the scent of George Atkinson, even after all these days. Patch began to wag his tail, walked right up to John, and hung his head, letting John stroke him once, twice, a third time.
As John stroked him, tears glistened in Patchs eyestiny yet unmistakeable. John saw them and so did Emily, who felt her own tears flow as she watched the two bond instantly.
Before long, all three were in the car, driving homesafe and content.
John and Emily were grateful theyd avoided the traffic, taken the bypass, and found Patch, whom Simon had rehomed. And PatchPatch was simply overjoyed. Hed found humans who needed him, who would never betray him or throw him out, the way Simon had.
Now Patch had a new family, a new home, and above all, hands that smelled of George Atkinson. What more could anyone want?
*****
So much for a loving son, John grumbled once they were home. Thats his idea of looking after a dog. Makes me want to find him and have words.
Let it go, John. What matters is that Patch is with us now. Life has a way of sorting people like Simon out eventually. One day, hell be old and alone and his kids may well turn their backs on him. Then hell understand what hes doneand then it might be too late.
I suppose youre right, John agreed, looking at Patch snoozing on the sofa, paws twitching, perhaps even smiling in his sleep.
John had a feeling he knew where Patch was running in his dream, and to whom he was smiling.
Say hello to George Atkinson for me, he whispered, and, careful not to wake Patch, opened the cupboard and took out the little box with the ring.
That very evening, John finally proposed to Emily.
Not in a fancy restaurant, not in some grand way, but at home, just them and Patch. And in that quiet moment, John realised that you dont need to wait for the perfect occasionits best to act on what matters right here and now.
And Emily didnt hesitate for a secondshe said yes.
Thats the story.
Sometimes, it takes a brush with fate, and the kindness of strangers, to see whats truly important in life: that love and loyalty mean more than anything. And that nothing is wasted when you open your heart, even to a little lost dog.
