Nail Polish

On a ‘volunteering’ vacation,
 I walk with the village nurse
on her home visits.
She briefs me on her patients.

Fifty year old, female,
abdominal cancer, terminal stage,
husband:  labourer on daily wage.

The muddy road, flanked by flooded fields,
leads to a cluster of houses.
I see your tall figure at the little gate,
staring into space,
or perhaps looking out for us.

Smiling in greeting
you lead us into a courtyard,
your humility and gratitude
leaving me embarrassed,
put out two creaky chairs on the cracked concrete.
offer tea, which we  politely refuse,
you bring out two biscuits on a plastic plate.

‘She has not eaten for two days…..’
Your distress
grates on my ears.

I hear moaning,
glance into the room within,
spotlessly clean,
paint peeling off the walls.

The wasted body lies on the bed
strategically placed
under the single whirring fan,
eyes half-closed
sunken into their sockets,
blouse half undone
to make room for the swollen stomach,
faded trousers pulled down
under the mound of belly.

‘How do you do this, day after day?’ I wonder.

‘I’ll drain her stomach’, says the nurse.
You know what that means;
 help her up,
humming,
soothing sounds,
soft,
almost silent,
on to a couch in the courtyard.

‘How do you do this, day after day?’ I wonder.

The nurse assembles needles and tubes.
You bring out a large grimy grey plastic bottle,
gently stroke her face,
coax each muscle to relax.
I look down,
squeamish about needles,
recoiling at the loss of dignity,
the invasion of privacy.

Grungy green fluid starts to fill the bottle.
You squat beside me,
eyes welling,
whisper…..
long round of charity hospitals,
dreaded verdict,
‘keep her comfortable at home’.

‘I have not worked for eight months,’
you tail off…
smile……
press tea and biscuits on me
press her palm…..

‘How do you do this, day after day?’ I wonder.

She is calm now.
You take away the bottle.
I stare at her fingers and toes,
crimson-red,
bright ,
beautiful,
bold,
not a brushstroke out of place.

You laugh,
‘I do this once in a while,
it makes her smile’.

This time
your smile reaches the eyes,
lights up the creases in your dark face.

Suddenly I understand,
with gratitude and humility,
with complete clarity,
how you do this, day after day.