Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same
hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day
to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only
window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of
their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in
the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon
when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the
time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the
window.
The man in the other bed would live for those
one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all
the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park
with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water
while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid
flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape,
and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the
man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the
other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque
scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described
a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he
could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it
with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head:
Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to
see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt
ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights,
his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to
brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - and
that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling,
the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his
lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man
by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across
the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have
brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and
choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only
silence--deathly silence.
The following morning, the day nurse arrived to
bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by
the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it
away--no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if
he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the
switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one
elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it
all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the
bed. It faced a blank wall.
