Becoming Vampire.

1918 was not an enjoyable year.

My final days of human life were spent with eyes closed; shivering and dreading every shallow breath. All I could do was ache, and wonder at my ongoing failure to die. During those days Dotty spent more time then ever tending to me. I contributed almost nothing to our conversation of course, but she managed a steady patter on her own. Then late one night I felt her sit down next to me as the clatter and scrape of objects being moved filled my ears. She patted my hand and told me that all the patients healthy enough to endure a move were being taken elsewhere. Those of us left behind were to be tended to until we died–she didn’t say as much out loud, but the reality was plain.

“I normally don’t take a risk like this,” she said, “but Dr.Frye and I will be the only ones here after the others are moved so I could easily . . .” I heard the nervous quiver in her voice as she leaned even closer to my ear. “Would you prefer not to die, dear?” I mustered voice enough to tell her no. I could not bear the thought of living in my ruined condition. I felt her shake her head at my response. “I was unclear. I apologize. I meant, if the choice was between dying here or regaining your health. What then?”

The shape and nature of my reality would change in the next few minutes; but you don’t know that kind of thing in the moment. I assumed Dotty was inquiring in the hypothetical, wanting to discern the psychology of the dying man. Would a wasting illness dull one’s memories of a robust and healthy life? Would I still want it, or would it seem just too great an effort when peaceful death loomed nearby?

I ran a dry tongue over even drier lips before answering. “Health. How?”

“I could make you a Vampire.”

In a more typical sane condition I like to think I’d have laughed at Dotty’s fine and morbid humor. That I’d have complimented her guts for seeing me off into the abyss with a dose of dry wit–but I was in no such state. I was perched on the edge of finality after having lived, what seemed to me, hardly at all. So I said to my new friend Dotty with the last of my strength, “Why the hell not?”