When Care Felt Like Love And Love Slipped Away

The first patient who proposed to me was a seventy-two-year-old man. Though he was nearing the end of his life, he believed that love was still within his grasp. Each morning, when I visited his bedside to administer medication, he appeared almost lifeless. However, one morning, I noticed a spark in his eyes; he seemed vibrant and strong. As soon as he saw me, he sat up in bed and greeted me. I joked, “You look lively today. Is it your birthday?”

He smiled and continued to gaze at me. I added, “If you keep this up, you’ll be discharged soon.” He nodded and replied, “When I’m discharged, will you come home with me and marry me?” I was taken aback but managed to smile. I said, “Get well first; that’s what matters most right now.” Just as I was about to leave, he took my hand and said, “I’m not that old. I still have plenty of life left in me. We can have a wedding if you’d like.”

I helped him back to bed and encouraged him to focus on getting better. I joked again, “If you can walk to the car by yourself when you’re discharged, I’ll marry you.” He smiled and replied, “I’m ready.”

From that point on, I received many proposals. Some were sincere, while others were fleeting. One of our matrons advised me, “When you provide care that they rarely receive from their own families, they fall in love not with you, but with the care you give. Don’t take them seriously.”

That advice lingered in my mind until one patient changed everything for me.

He had been in a car accident and arrived with broken limbs and severe injuries. I was on duty when he was brought in at dawn. I stayed with him until the doctors arrived to perform minor surgeries and then took him to his ward. I remained there until his mother arrived in the morning. I updated her on his condition and reassured her that he would recover soon.

He spent two months in the ward, during which I was primarily responsible for his care. As he improved, we talked about many things. When he was finally discharged, his mother invited me to their home, gave me some money (which I reluctantly accepted), and thanked me profusely. Then she dropped a bombshell: “Don’t you see that Charles likes you? Look at how he looks at you when you’re around. Make up your mind; he’s a good guy.”

Every day, his mother called to ask if I had considered her suggestion. I lied and said I was thinking about it. Soon, Charles himself began expressing his feelings for me, saying he wanted me to be part of the family and would do everything to make me happy.

He truly was a good man. He had a way of doing things that pleased me, but I was in a relationship with Kojo. Yes, Kojo had his faults, but I loved him deeply. He was confused about life, our relationship, and our future, but something about him made me love him even more. So, I told Charles the truth: “I appreciate your feelings, but there’s one thing holding me back—Kojo. We’re close to getting married, and I can’t leave him now.”

He didn’t respond, just nodded. I thought that would be the end of it, but he changed. He never mentioned the proposal again and instead began supporting me daily. He would call in the mornings to check my schedule and send a driver to take me home after work. I wasn’t seeing him as often, but he found a way to occupy my thoughts.

Surprisingly, that was when Kojo started ignoring me. He wouldn’t answer my calls or return missed calls. He always seemed busy with something I couldn’t pinpoint, but I knew he cared. I kept urging him to be present, dropping subtle hints that I needed him more than ever, but nothing changed.

It became increasingly difficult not to think about Charles. He was doing everything right while Kojo seemed indifferent. One day, I visited Charles and poured my heart out: “I want to be with you. If you asked me to be your girlfriend today, I would say yes, but I don’t know how to handle Kojo.”

He replied, “You don’t need to deal with him. Just leave him if you feel he’s not treating you the way you deserve.” He said it as if it were easy. From that day on, I decided not to call Kojo until he reached out to me. I also resolved to spend more time with Charles to get to know him better. True to form, Kojo didn’t call for an entire week. I grew uneasy but resisted the urge to contact him, and he never called.

One morning, I drafted a long message to end things with him. I read it multiple times but lacked the courage to hit send. That night, he called, “Hey Sally, you haven’t called me lately. What’s keeping you busy?” I nearly lost my temper but kept my composure. I told him I wouldn’t call him again until he learned to reach out. He got angry and hung up.

At that point, I was growing weary of him, especially since Charles was being the man I wanted.

One afternoon, I went to the hospital, and a nurse informed me, “Your boyfriend was admitted last night. Unfortunately, he passed away early this morning.” Do you remember that seventy-two-year-old who proposed to me? Yes, he returned and died, and I wasn’t there. I felt devastated for the rest of the day and couldn’t even eat. I called Charles, and he invited me over after work.

He did everything he could to lift my spirits. Later that night, as he was driving me home, he proposed again, saying, “This will be the last time I say this. If you say yes, we’ll be married in six months.” I immediately agreed. I didn’t care if he was serious; I was exhausted from Kojo.

Two months later, we planned to meet my parents and conduct the traditional knocking ceremony to start preparations for marriage. A week before the ceremony, I began to have cold feet. It felt like I needed more time to reconsider everything. The matron’s words echoed in my mind: “What if he doesn’t truly love me? What if I marry him and can’t care for him as he expects?”

I asked for more time, but Charles became angry. It was the first time I had seen him upset. He told me to leave and return only when I had made up my mind. I left and never went back. I returned to Kojo, believing in his promises.

A year and a half later, Charles married someone else a fellow nurse. That same year, Kojo ended our relationship and married another woman shortly after. I lost both of them, and today, I remain single.

I mishandled many things, but it’s all part of life.

—Sally  
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