Chapter 1
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Looking at the tubes connected to her frail, wizened body, I felt a terrible cloying sickness inside me.
Death wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate. She was going to die: no question. The only question was how soon and how painfully. And how much would I let it affect me.
The sense of hopelessness and helplessness was actually heavy. I could feel it on my shoulders and it was heavy. There was nothing I could do to change her journey. Death is, at the end, a journey made totally alone and without a return ticket. Is there a destination? People have been arguing over that ever since people existed, but for me the answer was an easy one. I knew the answer to that question.
I suppose for most of us death isn’t the real fear. It’s what comes just before it. The possibility of terrible suffering; the uncertainty of how it will occur; the fear of loss of loved ones and our treasures. No, actual death is probably the easy part.
We’d had conversations about her condition and whether we should ‘assist’ her transition in any way. Each of her children had a view on that. But none of us had the stomach to say what we really felt. I wonder how many other children try to discuss euthanasia without ever discussing it? And of those who do, how many carry a terrible secret with them for the rest of their lives?
Near misses had happened many times before so we expected no different today and we all eventually took our turn to kiss her and tell her that we loved her and would be back tomorrow. All but one of us who stayed behind.
We anticipated the worst within the next few days, but we didn’t really discuss it as we left the hospital. If you say it out loud it might come true.
I got home around 10.43 p.m. and I was tired. It’s so exhausting when somebody’s terminally ill. It literally sucks the energy right out of you. But at least I was home now and away from the face of death’s new neighbour. I’d only had a few hours at the hospital because I’d been kept back at work to fix a problem the boss had created. And as usual waiting until the last possible minute to deal with it and then waiting some more he decided to ask for a fix at 6 p.m. I’d fixed it by 7.15 and was at the hospital by 7.40
Broke a few speed laws to get there because I didn’t want anyone to think I’d put work first. But of course that’s exactly what I had done. Still, I’ll go early tomorrow and spend some extra time.
Funny really, but I was never too tired to eat. It was late to be having a big meal, but I was pretty hungry so I did. Probably got to bed around 11.45 and fell to sleep dreaming about quitting work. I have young children who are growing up and I’m practically a stranger to them with work.
The sound was indistinct at first and I was still in that dazed state when you’re trying to wake up. Telephone. It was the telephone. Pitch black in the room so it was still night. My fuzzy eyes could just make out that it was about 12.31 am. No call at that time is good.
Of course, as I got downstairs, banging my toes on unseen obstacles along the way, the phone stopped ringing. My answering machine had kicked in, bu at least it was on monitor. No message left. I started the slow process of turning the machine off – why are they so hard to work when you’re half-asleep? – and the phone rang again. Cheap answering machines won’t let you intervene and pick up the call if they’ve already done so.
No message again.
By this time my wife had joined me and she was more awake so she switched the thing off. Only took one click of a button. Why had it been so hard for me?
The phone rang again.
My sister’s voice, calm and measured, ever the health professional. Twenty years of medical training and experience will do that to you.
“She’s passed. The others are at the hospital now.”
Now I was wide awake and getting dressed and finding my keys and putting on my shoes and looking for my wallet and grabbing my phone and thinking fast. Einstein was right about relativity. Time does move differently depending on the observer. At least the roads were quiet as I drove the 3 miles to hospital.
Walking up to the automatic doors I could see my brother and sister inside, waiting for me.
Walking through those doors was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
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Author’s note:
For a long time (it’s why I started this blog in the first place) I’ve wanted to write a novel. Like so many of us. Just never seemed able to get started.
This is part of the first chapter of that novel. Frankly, I don’t yet know if I’ll do what other would-be writers do and give up after so far. Or whether I’ll finish it. The question of publication isn’t even in the arena at this stage. The one thing I do know is that I would like to finish a novel, warts and all, even if it proves to me that I can’t write. At least it would prove to me that I can finish and that would be something to take comfort in.
I’ll be posting more parts on Fridays. It seems a schedule commitment I can work to.