Perhaps Leland Burns’s prayers had an effect; things went smoother than he imagined. Winifred Dawson’s condition was quite serious. The surgery on her hand was completed, but the injuries in her brain couldn’t be fixed with surgery.
Among the symptoms of Delirium Syndrome, memory impairment and disorientation played crucial roles.
Winifred Dawson indeed forgot many things. She knew how her hand got injured but didn’t remember why it happened. She also forgot many people, except for Leland Burns, whom she shouldn’t have remembered.
Her brain became like an abandoned computer, needing a password to start up, and that password was: Leland Burns.
Because she remembered Leland Burns, she felt he was the person she loved most in her life.
Yes, the current Winifred Dawson couldn’t live without Leland Burns. It was as if she couldn’t survive without him, wanting to stick to him every moment, even following him to the bathroom.
Winifred Dawson’s left foot was also injured, making her reliant on Leland Burns for movement. He carried her around, and when they were at the hospital, he bought a wheelchair to take her outside.
The hospital room was a single room. For Leland Burns to stay and take care of her, he had to rent a bed in the hospital. Luckily, he had endured tough times before; he could sleep anywhere without being picky. However, his nearly six-foot-three frame looked pitiful curled up on that small bed.
The single bed in the room was quite large but still designed for one person. Sleeping two people would be cramped. Winifred Dawson didn’t mind the squeeze. After Leland Burns finished wiping her body, she moved to the edge of the bed, leaving some space: “Sleep with me.”
Her eyes held a pleading look that Leland Burns had never seen before. Every time he saw her like this, his heart would race uncontrollably: “You sleep by yourself.”
“Do you think I’m dirty?”
Leland Burns frowned: “Why would I think you’re dirty?”
Winifred Dawson raised her hands. Her hands were treated with medication daily; the liquid was yellowish. She often touched things around her, making the bandaged fingers blackened. She said foolishly: “My hands are very dirty.”
Leland Burns gently held her hand and kissed the bandage on her finger lightly without any hesitation.
Winifred Dawson’s hand shrank back slightly, seemingly not understanding what Leland Burns’s action meant.
She glanced at the accompanying bed beside hers and said: “Why don’t you sleep here? You’re tall; I’m dirty; I’ll sleep on this small bed.”
How could a patient sleep on the caretaker’s bed? Leland Burns repeatedly emphasized: “You’re not dirty.”
“I’m a little garbage; how am I not dirty?”
Leland Burns was momentarily speechless, his throat choked up. Winifred Dawson’s memory had deviated; sometimes she saw herself as the past Leland Burns and saw him as herself from before. Their roles had reversed-something Leland Burns had never anticipated.
“You’re not little garbage.” Leland Burns looked seriously at Winifred Dawson.
“Oh.” Winifred Dawson stopped dwelling on whether she was dirty but still insisted on sleeping with Leland Burns. With no other choice, he climbed into bed. They could only sleep sideways on the small bed with both sides’ rails raised to prevent falling off.
They lay face-to-face, so close that Leland Burns feared hurting Winifred Dawson and could only hold her carefully.
Winifred Dawson fell asleep quickly with steady breathing. Initially planning to get out of bed once she slept, Leland Burns found himself unwilling to let go when she finally did.
He reached out to touch her hair and kissed her face gently.
Mouthing silently with a breathy voice: “You’re not little garbage; you’re not me; I’m not like you; you’re my lady, my favorite person now.”
In the middle of the night, Leland Burns went to the bathroom. Not long after entering, he heard a “bang.” He hurriedly opened the door to see Winifred Dawson lying on the floor in pain with a tightly scrunched face. Seeing him come out, tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.
“How did you fall?” Leland Burns quickly picked her up horizontally and comforted her: “Does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt; I woke up and didn’t see you. I wanted to find you but forgot my foot was injured…”
Lying in his arms, Winifred Dawson stopped crying and looked at him with tear-filled eyes as if he were the only person in her world.
Seeing her like this reminded Leland Burns of pet dogs in short videos that sit obediently outside bathrooms waiting for their owners as if afraid they’d never come out again.
Seeing such a Winifred Dawson made him wonder if this was how she loved him or if she was mimicking how he used to love someone else. Could she still distinguish who she was while suffering from Delirium Syndrome?
If this was how Winifred Dawson loved someone, even if she had shown a little bit of it before, he wouldn’t have… forced her. Perhaps their ending would have been different now.
The hospital bed was too cramped for two people. Unlike Winifred Dawson who could fall asleep in his arms with closed eyes, Leland Burns couldn’t do it; he worried about pressing on her hand.
After two weeks in the hospital and being able to walk again, Leland Burns rushed to take Winifred Dawson back home.