AFlightThereAndBack
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When my father was dying there, right next to him, was this ECG monitoring his vitals. Everyone who came in there into the room, checking on him, kept their glances at the ECG. Then I looked at my father, who was doing his greatest to keep his heart beating and his lungs breathing, and then back at the ECG. Each abnormal increase set us all in vain. Just for my dad to reduce it again. Again and again for hours. This ECG was all there was in the room. It was proof that my father was still alive. When he passed away in that hospital, the ECG didn't do anything. There wasn't a cinematic, static, constant beep noise indicating his passing. It just stopped. Just the last numbers. After we left, it would continue on. Continue being in the way. Meaning so much to so little.
The travel there, from Germany to Amsterdam, then to China, then from Shanghai to Hangzhou, was the only delightful moment. The first time that all of us siblings would be traveling together. Without friends, lovers, husbands, or wives; no children; and no parents. Just all of us five, even joking and chuckling and wondering about the quality of Chinese coffee. Every now and then the oldest siblings would get messages from relatives and Mom about the state of our dad. He really was holding on just long enough for us all to spend some more time with him. About one day after we arrived, he would die. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend the night and morning with him. Talking about our usual random stuff. He hardly had any breakfast; nothing suited his years-long trained palate. As I'm typing this out on a stream of consciousness, I have to mention the treatment of Chinese hospitals. You have to pay for everything yourself; not even breakfast is included in the bill, not even the bedpan nor the empathy of the staff (with the exception of one nurse, but I digress). All the contracts and paperwork you had to sign and do while the man who did his best to raise you was suffering. The final bill was still less than it would've been in America; idk how much it would've been in Germany.
This is also the prototype name of the game, '(chinese) hospital'; then it turned to 'the most fascinating machine,' referencing the ECG machine that took all the visitors' and a doctor's attention away. Who was the thing we all had our eyes on instead of pouring our sorrow and pity onto a single person. But these titles are all in vain and anger against the place he was in and the people around him. It was about one week we spent there, barely a day with him; the funeral took the longest, then we had to wait about a week or more because of the spontaneous plane booking and our naive hope of being able to spend this week with him—all the places I wanted to visit with him, I can barely remember them. Most of them being restaurants anyways—then we returned all back to our normal life. My sister, Mom, and I are somewhat more occupied with some paperwork. Just a short flight there and then back home. Its entirety having been compacted into this one fragment with its shortest moment standing out the most.
