The Patient at 9

His hands are trembling, his gait a shuffle, sometimes his voice is no more than a muffle. His balance is off, he’s had many falls, sometimes to begin walking, there’s several stalls. Some days are good, others are fair; some days it seems like his mind is hardly there. He’s so optimistic, despite his condition; to help him in any way is my main mission. I teach him some nutrition to help with his brain; we work on balance exercises, we shoot for any gain. He has to come early, before sundowning time; I look for his smile, every morning at nine. He carries a stick to help with his gait; he walks with a shuffle and a wobble, hardly straight. He has determination in his eyes; his strength and positivity never disguised. He puts forth an effort, always one hundred percent, every move he makes is made with intent. His wisdom so valued; his persistence inspiring; my heart aches for him as I watch him tiring. His eyes start to soften, his tremors picking up; his body fatiguing, we know he’s had enough. He rests for a while, we sit there and talk; after he rests up, we go for our walk. As I walk him out, I pray for his health, I pray he finds peace with this hand he was dealt. I find peace in knowing he has lead a happy life; I find peace in knowing he’s found Jesus Christ. I will continue praying, and until next time, I’m looking forward to next Tuesday morning at nine.