fandom_muses Topic 29: "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." -
Topic 29: "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." -Blanche DuBois (in Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire)
[407 words]
I'm not sure I would call it "kindness" exactly. More like "stubbornness" and "determination". He just wouldn't leave, no matter what I did to try to push him away.
We didn't really even know each other that well. He was in Oncology, around the corner, I called him in for an occasional consult. Mostly I picked on him and belittled him. I didn't think he liked me that much. I was certain he thought I didn't like him. We tolerated each other because we had to work together, and we were in the same golf foursome.
It wasn't that I didn't like him. I just didn't care. I'd never had friends. I moved around so much when I was a kid, I lived all over the world, but never long enough anywhere to make friends. I didn't need friends, and I didn't label people as friends, really, because I didn't know what the word meant beyond the standard definition.
I found out, after I got sick. After the infarction. After my girlfriend betrayed me, and went deliberately against my wishes. I couldn't look at her after that. I didn't want her near me. I didn't want her to see me suffering through the recovery. I pushed her away, and he was there. He stepped up to take her place at my side.
I tried to get rid of him. I stubbornly refused to cooperate with him. I threw bed pans at him. I gave him the silent treatment when he came in my room, or I assaulted him with insults and stinging one liners.
He kept coming back. Some nights he never left. When I had a really bad day, he stayed. He didn't hold my hand. He rarely touched me at all, unless it was medically necessary. He read to me, or he sat beside me and didn't say a word.
He gave me back the will to live. He made me want to get better. I could have lain there and wasted away. It was entirely possible and highly probable I would never walk again. But he wouldn't accept that. He didn't want that for me. His quiet presence nudged me forward and made me get up out of that damn bed.
It wasn't "kindness" on his part. He didn't stay beside me because he was kind. Most of the time, he wasn't kind. He was stubborn and determined. He was, I realised, a friend.
[407 words]
I'm not sure I would call it "kindness" exactly. More like "stubbornness" and "determination". He just wouldn't leave, no matter what I did to try to push him away.
We didn't really even know each other that well. He was in Oncology, around the corner, I called him in for an occasional consult. Mostly I picked on him and belittled him. I didn't think he liked me that much. I was certain he thought I didn't like him. We tolerated each other because we had to work together, and we were in the same golf foursome.
It wasn't that I didn't like him. I just didn't care. I'd never had friends. I moved around so much when I was a kid, I lived all over the world, but never long enough anywhere to make friends. I didn't need friends, and I didn't label people as friends, really, because I didn't know what the word meant beyond the standard definition.
I found out, after I got sick. After the infarction. After my girlfriend betrayed me, and went deliberately against my wishes. I couldn't look at her after that. I didn't want her near me. I didn't want her to see me suffering through the recovery. I pushed her away, and he was there. He stepped up to take her place at my side.
I tried to get rid of him. I stubbornly refused to cooperate with him. I threw bed pans at him. I gave him the silent treatment when he came in my room, or I assaulted him with insults and stinging one liners.
He kept coming back. Some nights he never left. When I had a really bad day, he stayed. He didn't hold my hand. He rarely touched me at all, unless it was medically necessary. He read to me, or he sat beside me and didn't say a word.
He gave me back the will to live. He made me want to get better. I could have lain there and wasted away. It was entirely possible and highly probable I would never walk again. But he wouldn't accept that. He didn't want that for me. His quiet presence nudged me forward and made me get up out of that damn bed.
It wasn't "kindness" on his part. He didn't stay beside me because he was kind. Most of the time, he wasn't kind. He was stubborn and determined. He was, I realised, a friend.