Inkwell and Paper

His Heart – Short Story

I found out yesterday that May is National Short Story Month. You write a short story everyday of the month. I guess readers can put a spin on it and read one everyday. I’m going to try to do a combination of both. I’ve already missed two days, but I cannot go back in time to fix that, so I can only move forward. I will post a quick review of any short story that I read throughout the month, as well as the stories I will write.

I have wrote a short story that is mostly non-fiction with a bit of embellishment. I’m thinking about writing about my recent experience of my complications after surgery. I believe it was touch and go. I don’t want to do a memoir, but I am thinking of writing a novel that is based off my traumatic experience. My daughter said to title it “Cheating Death.”

Short Story Month #2


Any way here’s my first short story for the month.

He sat in the cold waiting room. His eyes drifted from the slip of paper the nurse had given him to the monitor hanging from the wall. He looked for the sequence of numbers that matched what was on the paper. Those numbers were very important.

“This will identify her and will tell where she is in the hospital,” the nurse said. “It keeps you updated.”

“Ok,” he replied, “How long will the surgery take?”

“Up to two hours.”

That’s what they had told him four hours ago. Now more than ever, he regretted declining her daughter’s request to sit and wait with him.

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. God if you can hear me, please keep her safe. Don’t take her from the kids or me. She’s all we have. I don’t usually ask for anything, but today I am requesting a priceless gem. Thank you, Lord. A loving husband.

“Mr. Gregory,” called out the doctor.

He jumped up, glancing quickly upward. Thank you, he mouthed.

She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Duvall. Everything went great with Marsha’s surgery. As soon as, she wakes up you will be able to see her.”

“Thank you so much,” he said. The weight of panic and worry lifted off his shoulders.


“Mrs. Gregory, it’s time to wake up now,” the nurse called. “You’re surgery is all over. You need to open your eyes.” She tapped her hands repeatedly.

Pure oxygen was blowing in her face. Her eyelids were heavy and all she wanted to do was to sleep for a little while longer.

“Your husband is waiting for you in your room, but you have to wake up first.”

“Cold- I’m cold,” she said through chattering teeth. Her body was shaking uncontrollably.

The recovery room nurse, hook up a machine that blew warm air into the gown she was wearing. “Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Her body still shivered, but it was getting better. “What time is it?” She squinted at the clock on the wall above the open doorway.

“It’s four o’clock and your husband is waiting to see you. We’re going to take you to your room now.”


The gurney travelled over lumps and bumps. Each rattle of the wheels made her moan. It was difficult to brace herself for the next rise in the floor, because the anesthesia was still in her system and she wanted to sleep just a little bit longer.

“Here we are,” the patient care technician, said who transported her from the recovery room to the room she would stay in overnight.

She saw him. His eyes looked a little sad.

Her saw her. She looked tired, but he smiled to not worry her. He was happy to see her.

“Come here,” she said reaching for him. “I want to touch your face.”

He bent down so she could touch him. She whispered, “I’m ok.”

That’s what he needed her reassurance that she was fine and everything would be as it was, if not better.

Thank you for hearing my plea he thought. My heart is ok.

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