Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Dumbfounded (02/20/25)
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TITLE: Body Language | Previous Challenge Entry
By Laurie Bahlke
02/27/25 -
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It angered her, how Stan created his version of the truth. “You shouldn’t have given them that paper. You want her to die.” Copper sighed, looking out the window in the long corridor that stretched from ICU to the elevator. It had become her window and her spot. The place where she planted her feet and stared through rain-speckled glass since the first day of Clara’s accident.
In the rubble of words around her, Copper found the ones she needed to say. “They weren’t mine to keep. They were her wishes, Stan. I made a promise to her years ago. She laughed when she signed them. Silly, she said, I’ll probably never need this. We both laughed because at thirty-two, no one plans for the worst possible moment that could ever happen.”
The pools of liquid in Copper’s eyes were escaping, falling down rivers of angst and memory.
“Stan, everything that Clara needs just to stay alive is on that paper and each one of those things, she did not want. No permanent feeding tubes, no dialysis, no life support. She’s not waking up Stan. We need to let go.”
Stan hit the wall with the palm of his hand, a loud slap that echoed through the corridor.
Copper turned to leave, body language that Stan misunderstood as “running away” even though it was just a small respite she sought; perhaps in the gift shop where she could idly wander and gaze at some small trinket, hold something that sparkled, or breathe the air of others that pondered diagnoses, advanced directives or the moment when life began to change. Or maybe she would find respite in the cafeteria where people came and went, milled about, some laughing and celebrating, because a new life had come into the world and others, like herself, who walked about half asleep, trying to decide on what might settle their stomach, when all they could think about was what was slipping away.
Stan had surprised her with his anger. She surprised herself because there was a part of her that also wished she had not given the doctors Clara’s advanced directives. A part of her thought that she could arrive at a better plan. Clara was her big sister but sometimes she got things wrong.
The chatter in the cafeteria had quieted. People had moved along and back to those they loved and cared about. When Copper returned to ICU, Stan was sitting beside Clara, holding her hand.
In her mind, Copper could see Clara with her watercolors and canvases. There were no monitors, or head bandages, only color and light at the edge of her yard. There was no chatter, arguing, or deliberating, only the sound of birds overhead. Clara once said that when we feel surprised and confused at the same time, it’s a signal to pause and consider. “God knows what He’s doing, Copper. The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of the Lord stands forever.” Clara had noticed Copper raise an eyebrow—“Yes little sister, think on that one,” she had said. Copper smiled at the memory.
Clara had known her well.
They had known each other well.
The sting of Stan’s words began to ebb away. The unsettling feeling that came with confrontation was changing and being replaced by the gift of grace. Copper bowed her head in prayer, knowing that reflection and assurance could be found there in the space where God hears and heals.
“Amen,” Clara whispered.
When Clara opened her eyes, Stan was standing beside her, his arm outstretched.
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Overall, good job with the entry.