I am... a T-shirt.

Ok, what is wrong with me? No, seriously?

You know how there are people with real problems out there? The hungry, the sick, the dying… It seems like I am the only person who will somehow manage to find a problem where there is none, then start obsessing about it until it completely consumes me and in time never really cross it off but rather store it in a memory somewhere deep inside my brain until it decides to emerge again. That’s me, The Obsessor. And now you’ll think how there surely must be a problem, that I’m unable to realize what that problem really is, that I’m not being objective about myself, blah blah... But, believe you me… I tried. I’ve been looking for it for days now (in the closet, under the sofa, on my balcony – everywhere!) and I just cannot figure out why on earth I feel like I feel. Maybe you could? Or whether there is a problem at all? Or is maybe exactly that the problem?! Confused? Stop reading! It gets worse…

You know how there’s one (or even worse, two or more things) you are really fond of and you can’t really figure out why? If you’re superstitious as I am, you’ll completely understand what the f**k I’m talking about. Like, a special pen, that you just have to have when doing an exam, or super magic underwear that you simply must wear on a first date. Got that? Ok, now, imagine a t-shirt.

It’s a t-shirt which is absolutely perfect, easy to wash, you don’t have to iron it, it goes with everything and you’d probably wear it every day, but people would find you weird, so… you know, you wear it every other day. You love it. Hell, everybody loves it.

But, one day. One awful day, somebody made a mistake. Somebody you love made a horrible mistake, washed it on a higher temperature so it shrunk, or the colours faded away, or burned it with a cigarette, spilt a juice all over it… you name it, there are numerous things that might happen to a t-shirt. The fact is – it is ruined. Lost for good. Lost its magic.

Suddenly you start to realize how ordinary that shirt was in the first place. Nothing special about a piece of cotton. You even think of yourself being crazy for believing in its powers. You throw it away and after a couple of days forget about it. Get a new one. A better one.

Until one day a person wearing the same shirt passes you by in the street, and everything comes back and slaps you in the face.

Now, comes the worst part.

Well, I had a very similar shirt. Well, I still have it. And it’s as though it stayed out too long in the Sun. As if I’d lend it too often to other people, so it got stretched. It’s full of holes, stains and God knows what, but… I somehow see it the same it. I still love it. It looks same to me.

On the other hand, I'm aware that it's bad. Wrong. The feeling is so rotten. But I enjoy it.

And that’s my readers, what I call a problem.

I am... a Nurse.

It was a perfect day. Just perfect. You know when the Sun is shining brightly, but not too hot, just enough… One of those days when the clouds form silly patterns in the sky and when the wind whistles your favourite tune only to bring the smell of freshly-cut grass mixed with the essence of rosebuds soaking in last night’s raindrops, slowly opening their petals, to your nostrils. I was sitting on our balcony, enjoying the catharsistic moment when I heard the phone ringing. There are three headsets in the house and when there’s an incoming call they all start to ring at the same time. I usually get completely neurotic every time that happens but somehow the ringing faded away in my mind and I knew that somebody eventually answered. I was finishing my cigarette and sipping the last few drops of my morning coffee when I heard mom (and I knew it was her because… – since we moved to this place I learned how to recognize each member of my family when he or she was climbing up the stairs. Dad was the heaviest so all the stairs squeaked a lot when he did it. My brother always climbed up to his room very fastly and mom… well, she did it differently… She would stomp with her feet on her way up, usually on the last pair of steps as if to warn me, to give me the time to cover up whatever I was to be doing before she entered the room) coming up and getting out on the balcony through my room.

She was upset, but she didn’t let me ask why - instead she just told me. She always did that.

- ‘Aunt Kristie is at a hospital.’ – She swallowed and continued. ‘The ambulance took her in around 6 this morning. But she’s gonna be ok…’

- ‘Why? What happened?!’ – I interrupted her.

- ‘Nothing serious, really…’ –Her lips were shaking. ‘I mean, I don’t know, they mentioned something about varyxes… or vanixis… it is a bleeding inside her esophagus. She was in the bathroom when it happened. The doctor said she lost a lot of blood… but… they managed to get there in time, so…’

One of the clouds in the sky suddenly covered the sun and we were in the dark. I felt cold. Too cold.

- ‘Varices? Is that what they said?’ – I was looking at my mother feeling a rush of anxiety coming up my spine.

- ‘Yes! Yes! That’s exactly what they said! What is it? Nothing too dangerous, right? I mean it’s just like a small cut… only on the inside, and…’

The rest of what was she was saying didn’t really get to me. It was as I disappeared, teleported myself into what is to happen in the next few days.

I hated the fact that I knew everything about it. About how when a blood vessel in esophagus is ripped it is impossible to stop the bleeding. It is possible, but it is necessary to start operating as soon as possible - but not here, not in this small town where people die during the simplest operations. I am sure that paramedics got to her apartment almost too late; they were busy playing chess, watching TV or having sex with colleagues, I knew that, I was once one of them. Or how in the ER she kept losing her time, and blood waiting for a surgeon to come and examine her.

I knew that by now her liver is absolutely wrecked due to cirrhosis she got more than thirty years ago when the medics transfused her with hepatitis b infected blood. She needed a new liver. And chances were, she’d never get one.

I was aware that they’ll stop the bleeding, but only temporarily and that soon she’ll get into a hemorrhagic shock. Then her kidneys will stop. And there was no coming back… Following kidneys, her heart, lungs than brain will stop functioning couple of minutes later.

Oh, they will try to resuscitate her, of course. Pump her with drugs, nurses jumping on her chest trying to restart the heart… but… I’ve seen it. I was once that nurse breathing in air or massaging a heart of a already lost patient.

I suddenly felt the anger push back the sadness inside me. Apparently, I wasn’t very good at hiding it because my mother hugged me and said:

- ‘Hey, come on. She’s gonna be alright. It’s nothing...’

I hugged her back and a tear slid down my cheek. I managed to brush it off as I was getting back to my chair, but my hands were shaking now. I started sobbing on the inside, suffocating on all the built-up tears.

- ‘You’re scaring me. What are you not telling me? I know you know more about all this stuff than I do… How seri…’ Our eyes met. There was a pause, and she read all of my thoughts. She was my mother after all.

- ‘No, NO… NO!! Not my Kristie… No, no… She is not going to die. She is NOT going to die! Not now. Not like this.'

By now, I was used to watching people crying when I’d give them the bad news. But this was different. I couldn’t stand watching my mother cry in front of me. It simply hurt too much. I knew that there wasn’t much I could actually do for my aunt, but my mother was sick too, on medications for years now, and this stress would not do her any good at all. I hugged her once more, holding her tight.

- ‘No, it’s ok. It’s ok. Shhh… She’s gonna be ok.’ – I whispered, patting her hair. ‘Shhh… Don’t worry mom, it’s nothing, ok? Just a small procedure, they do it every day. She’ll be out in a couple of days, ok?’ I brushed off her tears. ‘There… don’t you worry, everything is going to be all right. I kissed her forehead.’

- ‘Really?’ – she begged.

- ‘Yeah, yeah… honestly. Don’t you worry, all right?’ – I kept on lying.

‘Ok, then… You wouldn’t lie to you mother, would you?’ There was ring and a knock at our entrance door. ‘Oh.. Uh, ok… right. Good. Thanks. Ok, I’m gonna get that.’ She left the room wiping tears and fixing her hair watching her reflecion on a window in my room.

- ‘No, mom, I would never lie to you…’ – I whispered hearing her on the stairs.

Kristie. The women who was always there for me. Who knew everything there was about me, and even more than that. Who I loved as much as my own mother.

When I was alone again I looked up, watching beautiful, fluffy clouds moving across the sky. A few sunrays broke through it and brushed the freckles on my face. A few drops of warm summer rain fell on my arms. It was a perfect day.

Still, I felt cold, frozen. I could not move. I could not speak. I was a statue sitting in a chair, looking up, letting the rain wash away all the pain and anger from me.

Four days later, my aunt Kristie died.