by P. D. Cacek
“I understand,” she said.
“So, let’s pretend you know nothing about this thing called percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty, PTCA as we call it when we don’t want to overburden our already well established god-complexes, and I’ll explain the procedure.”
Helen allowed herself a small laugh and, as he was talking about the procedure and possible side effects, she mentally checked them off the list she’d already memorized.
If there were no complications the whole procedure took about an hour. Check.
It could be performed under local anesthesia. Check.
But he preferred that the patient be completely under. Oh, double-check that one, please.
“Now, once the catheter is in place,” he said, “a small plastic tube with a balloon on the end is inserted and inflated briefly at the site of the blockage in the coronary artery. The balloon opens the blockage and, if needed, a stent is placed there to help keep the artery open. If all goes well and there are no post-operative complications you can go home within twenty-four hours. Are you with me so far?”
“Check.”
“I’d want to schedule blood work and a cardiac stress test before the procedure.” He flipped open a desk calendar instead of reaching for his cell phone and fumbled with a couple pages. “I’m fairly booked until…the second week in August. Why don’t we schedule the tests for late July and aim for August 24th for surgery?” He looked up. “How does that sound?”
Helen took a deep breath. There, it was done. Finally. “Perfect. What day’s the 24th?”
Dr. Stanton looked confused as he glanced back down at his calendar. “Thursday.”
“Perfect…if you operate early enough, I’ll be out of recovery and awake to watch Grey’s Anatomy.”
He laughed and it was a beautiful sound. “All right then, my nurse will give you the forms to fill out and make an appointment for the tests. But for now rest, try to relax, think good thoughts, and stop any aspirin regimen your primary put you on, okay?”
Helen promised. They walked side by side down the short hallway to the front desk and she stood there quietly as she took out her Visa card, and listened while he gave instructions on what forms, tests and dates were required on her behalf.
It took less than five minutes and then he thanked her, said he’d see her again soon and disappeared.
“All right, here are the forms.” The receptionist handed Helen a manila envelope. “Fill them out and bring them with you when you come back for the tests. Let’s see, we have your insurance information on the form you filled out this morning…so, all we need now is….”
Helen handed over her Visa card and the girl smiled. “Be right back.”
While she waited to see how much the interview-turned-pre-surgical consultation was going to cost her insurance company (thank God she had full medical), Helen listened to the music whispering through the hidden speakers and felt….
Nothing.
She didn’t feel good or bad, she wasn’t overly relieved or especially worried and she most definitely was not scared. No, she wasn’t scared, so, all things considered, nothing was probably the best thing she could feel.
PART THREE
AUGUST
Chapter Thirteen
Henry
“Bang! Bang-bang-bang! Bang! B-b-b…bang?”
There were tears in his eyes when he stopped the battle that had been raging all night across the valleys and hills of his rumpled blankets and looked down at the little plastic thing in his hand. He knew green, he knew hard, but he couldn’t remember what it was called or who she was.
The lady sleeping in the chair.
He knew lady. He knew chair. He knew sleep.
But he didn’t know what he was holding.
Or who she was.
“Bang? Bang-bang? BANG!”
The lady woke up quick-quick, her eyes going big and round.
He remembered big and round.
“What? What, Henry?”
He held out the little green plastic thing. “Bang-bang?”
And she smiled.
“Yes, that’s right, Henry. Bang-bang. They’re soldiers…like you were a solider.”
Solider. That’s what he was holding, a green plastic solider.
He remembered.
Nora watched the tears in his eyes disappear and wondered what had caused them this time. He was mostly the other one now, although she still called him Henry because it was easier and he accepted it, more or less. Hank went away on a hot day at the end of July and Nora wasn’t the least bit sorry.
“I was a solider,” Henry said proudly and went back to the war he’d begun playing right after dinner the night before.
“Yes, Henry, you were a soldier.”
“You truly are a miracle worker, Miss Nora.”
Nora turned and smiled. Dr. Cross was standing in the doorway, holding a small Burger King cup.
“Thank you, Martin, but I don’t feel very miraculous.”
Dr. Cross still reminded Nora of Sidney Poitier, but now she called him Martin and her secret crush had cooled.
“That’s why they’re called miracles,” he said, walking into the room. “You don’t feel them, they just happen.”
“No!” Henry said, “No! Shoot you!”
Nora turned to look at her husband. His eyes were narrowed and he was pointing one of his plastic soldiers at Martin as if it were a gun. Reaching out, Nora gently lowered his arm back to the bed.
“Why don’t you like Dr. Cross, Henry? He’s your friend.”
“N’uh-uh,” Henry said, “he’s bad.”
“Why?”
Henry’s mouth opened and closed and his eyes went wide. Then his face got hard and he started to shake, and there was nothing that Nora or Martin or all the drugs and therapy could do about it. This was the worst part of the disease, having to watch someone you loved struggle so desperately for a word he knew he wanted to say, but couldn’t remember.
“Henry,” Nora whispered, “it’s all right. Shhhh, now.”
She reached out and he swiped at her with the plastic soldier, scratching the back of her hand. As blood filled the narrow gash, Nora plucked a tissue from the box on Henry’s bedside table and pressed it against the wound.
“Oh, Miss Nora.” Dr. Cross hurried to her side as Henry continued stabbing the air with his toy. “Give me your hand.”
“It wasn’t his fault.” She’d said it so often the words came easy.
“I know,” Dr. Cross said, frowning as he lifted the bloodstained tissue, “I know. Look, why don’t you go wash up in the ladies’ room down the hall and then let one of the nurses check it out? I’ll be out in a minute to talk to you.”
Pressing the tissue back over the cut, Dr. Cross escorted her to the door then turned back toward Henry and smiled. “But first….”
Henry stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. “No!”
“No?” Dr. Cross asked and, winking at Nora, slowly walked back toward the bed. “But I have something for you.”
Nora watched the anger fade from her husband’s face. “What?”
“Something special.”
Dr. Cross lifted the Burger King cup and Henry dropped the toy soldier and held out both hands, fingers outstretched and grasping.
“Strawed berry?”
Dr. Cross laughed. “That’s right, strawed berry, your favorite.Right?”
“Right! Gimme!”
“Okay.” Dr. Cross put the cup into Henry’s hands, but didn’t let go. “But only if I can take a listen first.”
Nora watched Henry look from the cup to the man. “Only listen, no shots?”
Dr. Cross laughed and crossed his heart with his free hand. “Only listen, no shots. Promise.”
“Okay.”
&nbs
p; The pure, innocent delight on Henry’s face when Dr. Cross let go of the cup and he took his first sip of the strawed berry shake made Nora catch her breath. Dr. Cross heard her and turned, a comic scowl on his face.
“Miss Nora, what are you still doing here?” He winked. “Go on, now, I’ll be along shortly.”
“Yeah,” Henry said between sips. “Go on.”
Nora watched from the doorway for another moment and left the room without them noticing.
* * *
The last thing Nora remembered, after one of the nursing staff disinfected and bandaged her hand, was walking into the lobby and settling into one of the big wing-back chairs in the ‘reading corner’. She must have fallen asleep because she’d jumped at the sound of her name.
Dr. Cross was squatting next to her chair, a worried look on his handsome young face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, you didn’t, I was just – ” she smiled, “ – resting my eyes.”
“You were sound asleep.” Dr. Cross tapped the chair arm with his long fingers. “You need to go home, Miss Nora, and get some rest, and I don’t mean a cat nap.”
“Oh, but I rest…really. It’s like when Marjorie was a baby – I sleep when he sleeps.”
Dr. Cross stopped tapping the chair arm and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small tissue-wrapped object. “He wanted me to give you this.”
Nora peeled back the tissue to reveal a small chocolate-chip cookie, the kind the staff gave out as snacks.
“My favorite,” she lied and folded the tissue back over it before putting it in her purse. “I’ll just save it for later. Did he really say to give it to me? By name?”
Dr. Cross smiled. “He told me to give the sad lady a cookie.”
“So, I guess you two are friends again.”
“Like this.” He crossed his fingers. “Sometimes I’m even his best friend. Then on days like today, he only remembers getting shots, which is strange, because I’ve never given him a shot or done a blood draw. That’s why doctors have nurses and interns.” He looked down. “Maybe it was the white coat. It’s so hard to know what sets them off.”
Them. Patients, like Henry.
“You’re a good man, Martin, and the finest doctor I know. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you do for Henry.”
“Thank you,” he said, then reached out and laid his hand against hers. “We have to talk, Miss Nora.”
Nora took a deep breath. “He’s dying, isn’t he?”
“You are a remarkable woman, Miss Nora…. I wish I had gotten to know you and Henry before this.”
“I wish so too, but you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.” He patted her hand.
“So, it’s time?”
“You remember we talked about what would happen when Henry reached the end stage?”
Nora nodded. If they were lucky, his brain, that had already forgotten so many things, would forget to breathe and Henry would just go to sleep and it would be over.
“I remember,” she said.
“Well, I think we’re just about there.” Dr. Cross leaned forward over his knees and took her hand in both of his. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Henry has been having trouble with his coordination, he’s almost entirely dependent on a wheelchair now and even then he can’t sit up without support. There are also some respiratory issues that have us concerned. Over the last few weeks, we’ve noticed a marked decline in Henry’s appetite, which is why we’ve been slipping him milkshakes with nutrient powder mixed in. But even then he doesn’t finish them half the time.”
Henry had always been a picky eater.
“He’s lost weight and muscle tone and given his already limited mobility we weren’t surprised to discover he’s developed pneumonia in both lungs. We will put him on IVs to keep his fluid levels up and push antibiotics, but the truth is that he’s shutting down, Miss Nora. I don’t think he has much time left. Are you okay?”
Am I?
Nora looked into the young man’s gentle Sidney Poitier brown eyes and took a deep breath. Back when they’d first talked about it, about how the disease would end, Henry had made a joke, telling her that when it came he wanted her to make a sign with a drawing of Porky Pig and the words “Th-th-that’s all, Folks!” to hang around his neck. Dr. Cross had shaken his head and she had smiled. And kept smiling until that night when Henry was asleep. Then she’d gone into the living room and screamed into a pillow.
Am I okay?
“Is he in pain?” Nora asked. “I mean, right now?”
“No.”
“Will he be?”
“No. We can keep him comfortable.”
“Then I’m okay, Martin. Just promise me that he won’t be in any pain.”
“I promise, Miss Nora.”
“Thank you.”
He squeezed her hand and stood up.
“Now, I’d like you to do me a big favor.”
Nora folded her hands together. “If I can.”
“You can. Go home, crawl into bed and go to sleep. I don’t want to see you here until tomorrow.”
“But Henry’s better during the day. I need to be here.”
“Miss Nora, I order you to go home.”
“Dr. Cross, I refuse.”
He glared down at her and she glared up at him.
“I’m not going to win this, am I?” he asked.
“No.”
The sigh was long and low. “Fine, but Henry’s going to be busy for a couple of hours – getting cleaned up, having breakfast, the usual morning routine…so, can I offer you my bed?”
Nora wasn’t sure what sort of look she’d given him, but he suddenly burst out laughing.
“No. No, no, no, no! I mean….” He took a breath and started again. “There are a couple rooms set aside for staff, in case we need to spend the night or just need to catch a few Z’s after lunch. I can vouch for them. Comfortable beds, TV, private baths and cleaned every morning. Would you be interested?”
Nora hadn’t planned to yawn, but when he mentioned comfortable beds, her jaw unhinged all by itself.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Good.”
Nora rubbed her eyes, embarrassed, and watched him walk to the nurses’ station where he spoke to one of the volunteer aides she didn’t immediately recognize. So many volunteers. They were always young, always eager to help in the beginning and then asked to be transferred to another section of the hospital.
Alzheimer’s was just too hard to be around if you didn’t have to be.
Nora saw the young woman nod and smile in her direction as Dr. Cross walked away.
She was putting him to a lot of trouble. Maybe she should go home and not come back until morning, but if she went home and Henry came back and wondered where she was, or if he suddenly remembered where he was and what was happening he’d be all alone and she’d never forgive herself.
“Mrs. Rollins? Dr. Cross asked me to give you this.”
Nora looked at the cup of orange juice the young volunteer was holding out to her and smiled.
“Thank you, dear. That was very nice of him.”
The orange juice tasted fresh-squeezed and went down cool and easy. She was just getting up to throw the cup away when Dr. Cross came back to escort her to a room that was clean and quiet and looked familiar.
Except for a twin instead of a fully adjustable hospital bed and the lack of monitoring equipment, the room looked like Henry’s, even down to the color of the walls and plastic water pitcher on the bedside table.
“What do you think, Miss Nora, will it do?”
Nora resisted the urge to sit down on the bed to see if the mattress was covered with a waterproof sheet. “It’s lovely, thank you.”
“You are most welcome. Extra
blankets and pillows are in the cabinet if you want them.” He took her hands again. “Get some sleep.”
“I will, but wake me when Henry’s ready.”
“I will. Now, rest…doctor’s orders.” He touched her arm and turned to leave.
“Martin?” He stopped at the door and looked back. “Tell Henry… If he asks, tell him where I am, will you?”
“Of course. And don’t worry, Miss Nora, nothing’s going to happen in a couple of hours.”
But he was wrong.
* * *
In the dream Nora was sitting on a dock watching Henry fish from a small boat out in the middle of a lake. Pine trees surrounded the lake and when the wind blew through them it sounded like voices whispering. Henry called her – “…s Nora?” – and held up the fish he caught and she laughed because it was a small fish and then Henry laughed too and—
“Miss Nora?”
Opening her eyes, Nora blinked and looked for the clock that should have been on her bedside table. She’d moved it to her side years ago when Henry retired and didn’t want it staring at him. She’d laughed at that and….
“Miss Nora, wake up.”
“I’m….” She blinked again and remembered where she was. Dr. Cross was sitting on the side of the bed. “Is Henry awake?”
And when he didn’t say anything, she knew. “He’s gone.”
“He just went to sleep, Miss Nora. It was very peaceful. I’m so very sorry.”
“Thank you, Martin. Can I see him?”
“Of course.”
He took her arm and let her lean on him.
“I should have been with him.”
Dr. Cross patted her arm. “Don’t do that to yourself, Miss Nora. Henry wouldn’t want you to.”
That made her smile. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t. Do you think he knew I was here?”
“Maybe,” Dr. Cross said, “maybe he did.”
When they were still a few feet away from the door to Henry’s room, Dr. Cross laid his hand on her arm and left it there.
“Are you ready, Miss Nora?”