I’m ready to take the pill.
The man walked through the cracked wooden doors into the building that stood touching the heavy, dark blue clouds above. He came into a large room, much different from the outside of the building. It was clean. Spotless. The walls were bare, except for a telephone and a fire extinguisher. There were counters everywhere; they lined the room and filled the open spaces, leaving pathways of polished white tiles. He looked over to the corner, where a bed was propped against the wall, and a large light hung over it, next to a cart full of medical instruments. A door he hadn’t noticed opened to his right, and a man wearing a blank white coat walked quickly through. The doctor shook the man’s hand, then walked over to the sink and washed his arms and hands, drying them and putting on gloves. His hair was black and his jaw was firm. He was energetic, but calm, and walked with a precise step. “We can get started right away. Are you ready?”
“Oh yes.” Said the man.
The doctor grabbed a folded blue gown from under a shelf and handed it to him. “You can change in my office, and then we’re set.”
A few minutes passed and the man was dressed. The doctor motioned to the bed in the corner. “Just lay down, I’ll be over in a second.” The man lay down, and looked at the room. Would he really say goodbye to himself- the only self he’d ever known, at least, ever since he could remember? He was ready. “So ready.” he thought to himself.
He blinked and the doctor was standing over him, putting on a new pair of gloves. “Take this and I’ll give you the shot.” He handed him a small paper cup, with a pale grey pill in it.
After years of confusion, he was finally holding the answer. He’d thought about this moment many times since he made the appointment, but never had it been this real. This close. One pill, filled with the powder that would soon flow in his blood, through his veins, into his heart and his mind, changing his very emotional makeup. He raised the cup to his mouth and swallowed it. Then he sighed. Reclining on the bed, he waited as the doctor dabbed his arm with alcohol and stuck in the needle, injecting the clear red fluid from the syringe that pressed against his arm. “This will help your body rest, so that the pill can take effect.” The doctor’s eyes were full and confident, and it was obvious that there was nothing to worry about. The man couldn’t help feeling like it would be nice to have just a few more minutes to think, to let go. “No, I’ve had years to think, and to curse myself and my disease.” He thought, as he forced his eyes to close. Seconds later, he was lost in the darkness, and the chemicals worked in his body, changing what he could never change on his own.
“That’s it. You’re done.”
He heard the voice and opened his eyes. He was drowsy, but clear headed enough to see the doctor, dressed in regular clothes and holding a tray of food. “You can go change now; it’s over.”
So the man dressed, ate, and barely had time to think until he was walking to his car. He looked up at the sky, now bright with the bronze light of the sun. It was evening, around 6 o’clock, but to him it was the start of a new life, a new existence.
