Monica had brought him here, to this old empty warehouse on the west side. They were ready when he came in, curtains up, bed made, and surgical tools laid out all nice and clean and ready for use. Some didn’t speak English, wondered around aimlessly as the surgery was explained ever so kindly by Dr. Morose, who wasn’t actually a doctor, well, not here, but over in the former Soviet state of Yugoslavia he’s fully certified, so breath deep, Oliver. Monica has promised to get you through this.
The waiting list for a liver was too long. He’d die before his name floated up high enough for the Donor Committee to even glance at it. There are over six thousand people on that list. Maybe, if the diagnosis was earlier, if the symptoms of liver disease weren’t almost identical to the symptoms of a hangover, then perhaps they’d of had a fighting shot at curing this thing legally. But early detection was never really an option. He remembers even now the befuddled doctor saying something like:
“And you didn’t notice? Even when you woke up sweating through the mattress, coughing up red chunks of mucus, shitting blood all over the back of the toilet seat, and your skin was as white as a ghost?”
“No. . .” he was forced to answer, “I, uh, I just thought . . . it was morning.”
And if we’re being honest here, the crippling alcoholism probably didn’t move him up to far on the list either. The doctor’s almost in full scrub now, and they’re setting up the last of the lights. Well this is it, Oliver, Monica and Rebecca come over to wish you lucked before they sterilize. No words really need to be spoken. He was too weak this morning to even walk in.
And Oliver doesn’t say anything, but still he asks a question. An inquisitive look of hope at Monica, who can only close her eyes and shake her head slightly. Don’t act surprised, Oliver, you knew she wouldn’t come. She’s busy, working and providing for that family you were to drunk and inconsistent to truly provide for, I mean, she was only sixteen when you left. . . . Watching you stumble around the neighbourhood in your stupor . . . wondering if you would come home anytime other than to collect your disability checks. . . . But still part of you hoped. . . . Because you know this just might be the last time. . . .
He’s let them go by, good moments he didn’t want to miss, and they’re being ushered away now, toward the kind blinding light he doesn’t have the strength to bear. Nurses lay him back and sterilize the place a little below his right rip cage. The bactericidal is cold on his skin. It’s orange and smells like gasoline. Overhead lie the bare steel girders of the warehouse.
God, what a terrible place to die.
Finally he’s all sterilized and ready for sedation. One of the more official nurses comes forward. He is holding a sharp, shiny needle as he bends down to one knee. Oliver will be out almost immediately. So the nurse leans in close.
“This is my favorite part.” The nurse says this as he’s sending the needle in past Oliver’s skin. He barely felt anything at all. Little disappointing actually, he had wanted to feel something.
The IV of milky white liquid is lifted high into the air.
No. . . . this is too soon. . . . He doesn’t want to go like this. He doesn’t want that nurse’s Middle-Eastern face to be the last thing he sees in this fading world. The milky liquid is moving down the line, chasing out the sterile water, closer to his vein, closer to something he never knew he didn’t want to see. . . . Think back to a park in late spring. A child wrapped in linen, playing tenderly with her younger brother, ponytail tied aft behind her head. . . . She chased a cat away. . . .The cat was white, but her shirt was slate blue. . . . face is turned away, stalking the geese in central park. . . . She’s fading now, falling faster than he can hold. . . . but her image isn’t quite there, her face is still turned out of view. . . . . He’s past the point . . . . He couldn’t open his eyes if he tried . . . .and she slips before he can see her face. . . . No. . . . I didn’t want to lose that day. . . .
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139,535 Literary Works • 672,600 Reviews
Hi there!
I'm here to review your work!
Okay, I'm going to go all out and declare my love for all things surgery-related. Yup, I love them. The grosser they are, the more fantastic it is to read. I know, I'm a little weird. But what the hey xD
So, anyways, I want to appreciate you for posting this! Because, well, you should be.
Now, on to the nitpicking:
Ah yes, there's a fair share of nitpicking in here. A lot, actually.
Let's start with the tense, There seems to be a LOT of problems with tense everywhere I go, and I endure them constantly staring at my own works. Gaaaah, tense. But it is important, and I think you should focus a little more than what is required of your attention to it. Because, it is actually very important.
That brings me to one more point: Proof-reading. It is very essential that you go over your work once before you post it. Helps you get rid off the unnecessary little errors that we tend to make all the time.
Next,I want to talk about POV's. You see, the main reason behind POV's is for us to identify with the narrator and read their thoughts, their insights, etc. So, it is imperative that you choose an appropriate point of view and stick to it. I saw the fluctuation between the third POV and first POV. You need to be careful about that.
Lastly, the use of punctuation marks. I saw a lot of periods being used in the story, that is a bit unnecessary. Three is fine, or you can substitute and use another one of the vast punctuation marks known to man xD
Now onto the actual story:
You've brought to light one of the most important issues that people need to be more aware about. Alcoholism. It's sad that more stories like these aren't being made more often. Anyways, I liked the concept. Very neat.
However, the story itself was a little vague to me. I mean, I didn't exactly understand what was going on here besides the surgery. I feel you could have written that out a bit better.
Anyways, kudos to originality of the plot!
I think you have a huge scope for improvement, and I'm pretty sure you will!
Keep writing!
Here to review! ^-^
As said, I believe this should be rated 16. It would have grossed out some sensitive people. Also, the language was a bit iffy. The point of view technique could have been better. I believe this should have been written in first, but, as said, there is probably a reason why you wrote it in third. Overall, I like the story and the concept, but the language could have been better.
Firstly, this probably should have been rated a sixteen, I'm nearly fifteen and don't get grossed out by that sort of thing; but that was just a little too much. I found it a little weird as well that you gave the character emotions in the third person... usually in the third person, YOU are describing what is going on from YOUR point of view; unless Oliver had said that he had wanted to feel something, then you would say that. Which leads nicely onto the last paragraph in the same context; if you were wanting to describe what he was thinking, then why didn't you write the whole thing in first person?
There is probably a viable explanation for why you did it in third person,
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