Not a massive fan of mystics, but like most, sometimes I like the ability to see into the future, know what’s in store for the day, the week, the month, the year, and the rest of my life. ‘The rest of my life’ implies an end, something to be measured, predicted, feared. Recently, I lay in a hospital ward. There were no walls, just drawn curtains, and the humming of monitoring machines, and the occasional cycling of the ice machine—why do the nurses always serve ice in the water? Most people chip and crack teeth as a result of chewing on ice. Perhaps there is a conspiracy between the national dental association and the nurses’ union to make money. Are there kickbacks or payouts? Let’s say one nurse cracked enough patients’ teeth in a single year to afford taking her entire family to Disney World. Imagine it was the most beautiful holiday this family ever had, indelible, precious memories for the family of five, husband, wife, two boys, and a girl. And ten years later, the youngest son, who was struggling financially, questioned his mother about how she swung their Disney vacation. What would the mother say? Would she reveal the root canal, dental implants, and the cosmetic touch-up she was responsible for, which made their vacation possible?
It was early in the morning when I got to bed number 4. Even though I would walk, I was wheeled there. It was not shameful, nor did I feel like I was physically denied my rights, my dignity to stand on the soles of my own feet and demonstrate my balance, gait, and my neurologic competency, knowing ‘right’ from ‘left.’ I felt deeply cared for as I slid along in a seated position with my feet inches above the floor, an amusement ride for the injured, sick, and elderly. The nurse told me her name, I don’t recall it now, but it was intimate. Both of their hands were in very close proximity to my shoulders, platonic like a mother scratching my back as I fell asleep. I have always had a difficult time sleeping.
They locked the chair at my bedside and held my bicep tightly enough to catch me if I fell, but lightly enough so no bruise or physical trace would be left on my skin. However, I had already been stuck a couple of times and blood had been taken, and was also off on a vacation. Part of me was gone, and knowing that we would not later meet up at a museum or a theatre under the ‘You are here’ sign made me sad. I like my body. Even though I look better after a haircut, there is a loss seeing hair lifelessly pressed against the floor and witnessing the barber stomp and kick parts of me.
As I lay in this bed, I was given headphones, and a virtual person on a screen above my bed started talking to me. With the duration of my life in question, I turned to humor. It was 3 am. She was sweet, probably at home with young ones sleeping meters away. The background was blurred out. But I could see the diffuse colors she chose for her living room. They were too bright for me. She asked questions and I tried to respond in strange and funny ways, passing time, hers youthful in nature and mine unknown.
Now, I remember one question she asked and my response:
Young woman with black headset: Do you have any medical devices at home?
Me: Yes, I have a toothbrush.
We both laughed.
As I fell asleep, concerned that my snoring might wake the others, I thought about the Greek gods and whether they have to go and get a cavity filled and take hypertensive medication. A god that would like to remain anonymous asked, ‘Medication for what, to prolong our lives?’ The doctors responded, ‘Well, it’s unknown, but if you take the medication or get the preventive medical screening, you may be able to extend your life ten to fifteen years. Of course, there are no documented studies that state this, but it is what I recommend.’ So there, Athena is scheduled on Thursday, September 4th, 2025, for her annual mammogram:
Patient: Athena, Goddess of Wisdom
DOB: Unknown
MRN: IMM-0001
Insurance: Olympian Health Collective (OHC)
Primary Physician: Dr. Hippocrates (Attending)
Scheduled Appointment:
· Procedure: Annual Screening Mammogram
· Date: Thursday, September 4th, 2025
· Time: 9:30 AM
Medical History:
· Lifespan without intervention: Immortal
· Lifespan with intervention: Infinite + 10–15 years
· Past Medical History: None (immune to disease, aging, and mortality)
· Allergies: None (except hubris in mortals)
Medications:
· None prescribed
· PRN use of nectar & ambrosia
Notes:
· Patient denies chest pain, shortness of breath, or mortality.
· Screening was performed per protocol despite questionable necessity.
· Patient has been in therapy for centuries, treated by: Wilhelm Wundt, Sigmund Freud, Ivan Pavlov, B.F. Skinner, Carl Jung, Erik Erikson, Lev Vygotsky, Mr. Rodgers, Bart Simpson, and others, with little signs of improvement.
· Please complete the survey, as your involvement has been crucial for the development of modern medicine.
· Follow-up in one eon or as needed.
So, as I repositioned on my side, I was grateful for the uncertainty of my life. Reflecting on its immeasurable characteristics, I realized that with each passing day, I can savor a coffee and how the sweetness touches my tongue, even if I spilled some on my baby blue collared shirt. As I drifted off, I found solace knowing even if the stain never washed out, I would.
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William Watson is a published writer and filmmaker who began as an experimental artist, first capturing New York City through the lens of a handmade pinhole camera. After 9/11, he left filmmaking and moved to Alaska, spending a decade as a firefighter and paramedic with the Anchorage Fire Department—a role that deepened his instinct for listening and storytelling. Originally from Boston, he studied at Yale University and earned his MFA from Bard College. Watson believes that if you watch a place long enough, something profound will reveal itself. He continues to wait patiently.
© 2025, William Watson
Halfway Down the Stairs 