Benediction (Plainsong #3)(10)

Lorraine went out to the porch. Can I sit with you, Mom?

No, I don’t want any company. I don’t want to speak to you or anybody else right now.





6


THE NURSE from hospice was a small active woman with beautiful teeth and shiny hair. She came into the living room on a sunny morning in her pink shirt and vest and blue jeans and came over to Dad, walking slowly so as not to surprise him, and he turned from the window to look at her. Lorraine brought her a chair and she sat down in front of Dad and took his hands and examined them, inspecting his fingernails, and smiled and he looked at her soberly, not smiling but not frowning as he sometimes did. She said, Mr. Lewis, how are you this morning?

About the same.

You’re out of bed and in your chair. You still feel well enough to sit up.

Yeah.

What did you have for breakfast? Did you eat breakfast?

I ate something.

What did you have?

He looked at Mary who was standing behind the nurse with Lorraine.

You had your oatmeal, she said.

I had some oatmeal, Dad said.

He didn’t eat very much of it. He didn’t want his toast.

I’m tired.

Yes, the nurse said. You eat whatever you want to.

She thinks I need to eat.

Of course. Because she cares about you.

I’m not hungry anymore.

I know. That’s what happens. We get like that. Did you have a shower today?

No, he said. Later maybe.

All right.

We’ll see. I don’t know if I will.

Do you mind if I check your breathing and pulse?

If that’s what you want to do.

I do.

She took his temperature and his pulse and put the clothespin-like oximeter on his finger to gauge the oxygen level.

What is it today? Mary said.

It’s ninety-two. Still satisfactory.

Can I listen to your heart and your breathing now, Mr. Lewis?

She took the stethoscope out of her bag and he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled up the undershirt. His chest was white and bony and almost hairless, the ribs jutted out. She bent forward and listened to his heart and his chest and his stomach.

You sound all right for today. Do you feel okay?

Well. I know I don’t have long. If that’s what you mean. But I don’t feel too bad.

Are you in any pain today?

Some.

A lot of pain?

There’s some pain. Yeah.

Honey, you don’t tell us that, Mary said. I wish you would say something.

He looked at his wife and then turned and stared out the window.

He can take the Roxanol too, the nurse said. Along with the MS Contin.

How often can he take it? Lorraine said.

Whenever he wants, the nurse said. It won’t hurt him. Every fifteen minutes if he needs it. Mr. Lewis, will you listen to me? she said.

Slowly he turned back around. His eyes were flinty now.

When you’re in pain you need to tell your wife or your daughter. They can give you something that will help right away.

I don’t plan on getting addicted, he said.

You won’t.

It’s morphine, isn’t it?

Yes. It’s a form of morphine. But it won’t matter.

He studied her face. Because I won’t last that long. That’s what you’re talking about. Not long enough to get addicted.

That’s right. But it’ll give you immediate relief. I’ve told them about it and they can help you take it.

He looked at her and then he began to rebutton the front of his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. The nurse took his hands again.

What are you going to do today?

Today?

Yes.

Not much.

What are you thinking about? Will you tell me?

I was thinking I’d like some peace, he said. He withdrew his hands and turned and peered out the window once more.

Well, you seem to be doing pretty well here. I’ll come again next week. Is that okay?

He was looking at the side yard and at the tree and the shade on the grass. There was less shade now, the sun had moved higher in the sky. That’ll be fine, he said. Thank you for coming.

The nurse took her bag and equipment and rose from the chair. Do you need any more of any of the pills?

No, Mary said. Do we, Lorraine?

I don’t think so.

The women went out to the sidewalk in front of the house and stood talking quietly. Does he seem worse to you? Mary said.

He’s still getting out of bed and he’s sitting up. He’s still fairly responsive to questions when you ask him something.

When he wants to be, Mary said.

He’s sleeping more now, Lorraine said.

He’ll probably begin to sleep even more. You understand he can have Roxanol throughout the day.

And it won’t hurt him.

No. You have the journal I’ve left, with my phone numbers on it, and you know what to do when things change. And you have that little blue book I gave you to read. You can call me anytime, night or day.

Thank you.

You’re doing a wonderful job taking care of him. I want you to know that. He’s lucky to have you.

I don’t want my husband to suffer.

Lorraine put her arm around her mother. The nurse said good-bye and they watched her go on to the car.