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The Ward

Head down, John shuffled out of his room and began his slow passage down the long, cold corridor to the nurse’s station. Occasionally he managed to look up, but even then his chin barely left his chest.
‘Mornin’ John’ said Lydia, a friendly junior nurse, as she bustled past.
John’s face flickered briefly, attempting to smile, then returned to the blank expression it held every day. Soon after this Janet turned the corner and walked towards John on her way back to her room. Although she had spent time with him in therapy groups she was conflicted over whether or not she should say hello. Undecided she remained silent, managing a brief smile as she passed. Still, John’s eyes never left the smooth, grey floor.
Sarah stood still at the half-opened door, her trembling hand gripping the door handle. Although her eyes were facing into her hospital room, she saw the room she had as a child; and that terrified her. Sarah knew these were just memories but she could not bring herself to enter her room. Her heart raced as her panic grew rapidly. She was holding her breathe, frozen in time like a living photograph.
‘Sarah?’ Lydia’s gentle voice appeared to her left. ‘Are you ok?’
Sarah turned her head towards the voice. The movement broke her from her spell and she began gasping for breath.
‘It’s ok love. Take slow, deep breathes.’ Sarah slowed her breathing down. She trusted Lydia. She was safe. ‘That’s right. You’re going to be fine.’
‘Th...Thanks’ Sarah almost whispered. ‘I think I will be ok now’
‘Alright Sarah. But you know where we are if you need anything’ Lydia smiled as she turned to head back down the corridor.
Immediately, Sarah rushed into her room and closed the door.
John, still on his slow procession down the ward, paused at Sarah’s closed door. He had wanted to help her before Lydia arrived but couldn’t respond fast enough. When he was young he had wanted to be a real hero, so he joined the Fire Department. Back then he was also convinced strong men didn’t get depression. He was wrong.
Suddenly realising he was still standing there staring at Sarah’s door, John began the series of subtle movements that provided the momentum his body needed to begin walking again. This took all the strength of his will. Few could now see that hero inside still fighting; he had never stopped fighting. After fifteen minutes John reached the nurses station. Shuffling his weight from foot to foot, he waited to be noticed rather than ring the bell. A few minutes later Lydia appeared in front of him.
‘Hi John. What can I do for you?’
‘My meds please.’ John mumbled softly.
As Lydia prepared his medication John glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was Tuesday. But what did that mean anymore? After two months the ward was a microcosm to which John now belonged, and every day felt the same on the ward.