Ben smiled at that and signed off with his friend. Once the connection was dissolved, he put his head back on the wall. The waiting was pure torture, and yet, what exactly was he waiting for? What was going to happen in this realm that would do anything but make him wait even more? Short of another stroke or something else failing in his father, he could be here until doomsday.
If he believed in God, he might even have gotten angry at that moment. But what sense did it make to argue with an entity you didn’t even believe in? None. He looked at the clock and pushed to his feet when he realized visiting hours would be starting in only a couple minutes. It was odd how accustomed he’d become to making that walk down that too-well lit corridor to those double doors with the windows at the end of it.
He made it to them just before they opened and went through on the push of some family in front of him. There was no need to ask for the room or directions, he knew them by heart, and when he pushed into the second door, the nurse tending the body in the bed with the tubes and wires strung to it looked up.
“Mr. Warren,” she said, addressing the man in the bed, “you have a visitor.”
“How’s he doing?” Ben asked, absurdly hoping that she would tell him fantastic and he would be going home tomorrow.
“He’s stable.”
“Stable.” Ben raised his chin and lowered it slowly. There were just certain words that made his heart fall into his shoes.
“I’ll be out here if you need me.” And with that, she went to and out the door.
The world tilted away from him as his senses swirled. He let out a hard exhale. Why was this happening? Why? “Um, Dad.” Man, it felt weird to talk to someone who couldn’t even hear him. “We… we need to talk.” He took a hesitant step forward, seeing the face amidst the wires, but not wanting to. “Uh, I went down today to the…” Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed it down. “To the hospice unit. I… I don’t know if you’ve ever been there before, but it’s not so bad. Um. They… want me to sign some papers that would take you off life support. I don’t really know how I feel about that, or how you would feel about that.”
Anger bubbled up in his gut. “You know, this really isn’t fair. You always said I could come talk to you about anything, and now I could really use your advice. I don’t… I don’t know what to do here. I really don’t. So if you could like, I don’t know, give me a sign or something, something so I know what you want me to do…”
A different nurse pushed into the door, and Ben took a full step backward. It was almost time to go anyway.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, “we had a monitor malfunction out there. I just needed to check on his oxygen levels.”
Ben shook his head as if the intrusion was no big deal, but his sniff gave him away.
“Yep,” she said, checking several cords. “Everything’s working just fine.” She turned to go and smiled at Ben as she left.
He hated those smiles. They tore more holes in him than he could deal with. He wished they would quit doing that, looking at him like they didn’t know what to say. Of course, he knew they didn’t. How would they?
“Well, Dad, I guess I’m going to go too. I may just head on home. It’s after six, and with traffic…” There was an end to that sentence, but he didn’t bother finding it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, he turned and fled.
Instead of getting easier, these visits were getting harder. What do you say when you’re the only one talking?
Anger reasserted itself as he banged through the double doors and headed out and down to the parking lot. What was the point of living if it just ends in such a distressing mess? He couldn’t tell, and he was tired of thinking about it.
In the parking lot, he climbed in the Mustang, glad for once for the shred of normal one-upsmanship between him and Kelly that had brought him to make this purchase. He looked good in the silver Mustang, in control, invincible. Right now he needed that feeling more than he ever had before.
Before leaving for the evening, Kathryn went into the chapel. It was one of her favorite places in the world. Quiet. Serene. Holy. It had a way of wrapping around her and making her believe once again that Someone greater than she was in charge. She needed that more often than not. This job, the one she had been led to, was not the job for someone who thought they knew it all—because on a rather frequent basis, she was reminded that she had no clue.
Like today. As she sat in the pew, just looking forward and up at the large crucifix hanging there, she remembered Rachel and her sister, their aunt and the great-grandmother who had raised them. At one time Kathryn had tried to talk with those families like she knew it all. Now if humble had a name, she was sure it was Kathryn. Over and over she had walked into rooms filled with grief, knowing she had no words to ease their sorrow, and slowly but surely she had learned that although she couldn’t, God could.
Her thoughts turned to Mr. Warren, the man with the incredibly sad eyes. He was struggling so hard. He wanted to do the right thing. That much was obvious. But how do you do the right thing when that means giving up? Kathryn shook her head at his dilemma. “We’re not programmed to be quitters, God. We’re not. We’re raised—the whole lot of us—to believe we can do anything we put our minds to or that we should be able to.” She closed her eyes to the pain that surged in her soul. “But when we can’t, where do we even go with that? Especially when we don’t know You. God, please be with Mr. Warren and with his dad. They need You so much, Lord. Both of them. Please guide them through this difficult time. And Lord, if I am to be any part of this, please give me the words to be part of Your solution. Do it through me if that is Your will. This I ask in Your name. Amen.”
“Good morning,” Kathryn said as she strode into the unit the next morning. A good night’s sleep had done wonders for her disposition.
“Kate.” Misty didn’t even let her get a step down the hallway.
Coffee in one hand, briefcase in the other, she stopped. She never liked that tone.
“Kate,” Misty said, coming around the desk, and a list of the patients streamed through Kathryn’s mind. When Misty was only an arm’s length from her, she stopped and gazed at her friend for a very long moment. “Mrs. Baker passed away overnight.”
The coffee shook nearly spilling from her hand.
“Here, let me take that.” Without brooking an argument, Misty took the coffee. “Come on, let’s go to your office.” She took hold of her friend’s elbow and steered her down the hallway.
“What… what time?” It felt like a knife to the gut. Many, many patients went through. Some she hardly remembered, but there were some she knew she would never forget. Mrs. Baker—Emma was one of them.
“I don’t really know. Janet checked on her at two, and she was sleeping. At four, she was gone.”
“Have they… Have they notified the family?” Slowly the wheels of her role started to reassert themselves.
“Yes. They’ve already been here to get her things. In fact, I think housekeeping has already cleaned the room.”
In the office, she sat down on the client side of the desk in one of the two chairs. Misty got her some tissue, and they sat like that for a moment. Kathryn could feel her heart cracking in half as she dabbed at her eyes.
“I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
“No, but you helped them to. That’s what matters.”
There had been no change overnight in his father’s condition. That was so frustrating because if he just went one way or the other Ben would know what to do. He checked on everything at the eight a.m. visitation time, and then realizing he had to make this decision or stay in limbo forever, he pulled out his phone and dialed her number. Closing his eyes, he made a deal with the universe that if she didn’t answer, that would be his answer.
“Let the service get it,” Misty said when the phone on Kathryn’s desk rang.
Determined to do her job the best she could whether or not she felt like falling apart,
Kathryn stood. “No. It’s okay. I’m all right.” She stepped over and picked up the phone. She hadn’t even had time to make it forward to her cell, which was usually accomplished no later than 8:05. One glance told her 8:05 had long past. “St. Anthony’s Hospice, Kathryn Walker.” The first words had sounded so professional and then she sniffed, totally blowing her act.
Misty ripped three more tissues out and handed them to her.
“Uh, Ms. Walker?” Ben knew in a heartbeat he shouldn’t have called. “I’m sorry. This is Ben Warren, from yesterday, if this is a bad time…”
“No. No, Mr. Warren, this isn’t a bad time. What can I help you with?”
He swallowed, feeling the decision in his heart but not being able to get it to his voice. “I was wondering if maybe I could come down and take a look at one of the rooms.” It was as good an excuse as any to delay the decision.
“Oh, of course. Certainly.” She sniffed twice in quick succession. “Are you…” The pause was a mere second, but he heard it just the same. “Upstairs?”
“Uh, yeah.” He looked around the waiting room to make sure. “I can just come down if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Of course it’s okay. I’ll…” She sniffed again. “…see you in a few at the main doors.”
“Okay.” Ben hung up and dropped the phone to look at it. That was strange, and if he wasn’t so very unsure of his own stability, he might even be inclined to question hers. But as it was, he was in no position to question anything about anyone. So he stood and headed on the long walk to the little building just off-set from the hospital.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Misty asked, her voice filled with overwhelming concern. “I can call Yvonne.”
“No. Don’t be silly. This is my job.” Kathryn ran the tissue under her eyes once more as she looked into the mirror. The grief was etched there, but maybe she could fake alive and happy enough to get through this. “I’ll be fine.” She turned from the mirror knowing she could do no more. “Seriously. I’m fine. You, however, better get back out there. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
Misty frowned but knew as well as Kathryn there wasn’t much that could be done about the situation. “Okay.” She stepped over and gave Kathryn a hug, which Kathryn wasn’t sure helped at all seeing how it put another crack in the mask she was desperately trying to get back on. “But if you need me, you know where I am.”
Quickly Kathryn nodded but ducked her head lest Misty see and know how badly her heart hurt. “I’m fine. Go on.” She pulled her shoulders back and stretched her neck side to side. “I’d better get too. Mr. Warren will be at the doors in no time.”
“Ooh, Mr. Warren. He’s cu-ute.” Misty stretched the word out to two syllables.
“Stop it.” Kathryn whacked her on the shoulder. “He’s a client who’s going through a really rough time right now.”
Shrugging, Misty opened the door. “Doesn’t mean he can’t be cute.”
Kathryn widened her eyes in warning at her friend as they walked down the hall, where from the entrance, crossing to the empty nurse’s desk stepped Mr. Warren. He was more than cute. He was downright handsome. She whipped those thoughts from her brain in horror. What was she thinking? It must be the emotions of the morning. She snapped professional back over her and walked right up to him as he turned on their approach. “Mr. Warren.”
“Uh, Ben,” he reminded her as he shook her hand.
Her alert system blared to life at that touch, and stunned by it, she forced herself to smile and remember the situation. He was going through enough. He certainly didn’t need the hospice social worker mooning over him. “Ben,” she said softly, hoping it wasn’t too soft. What was wrong with her?
She tipped her head, fighting to get herself back under control. “You mentioned wanting to see a room?”
“Y-yes.” He glanced over at Misty. “I did.”
Holding out her hand to indicate the lobby, Kathryn smiled. “Please.”
Side-by-side they walked the ten steps to the lobby, which looked more like a vastly over-sized living room and which owing to the early morning hour was empty but for them.
“Has there been any change in your father’s condition?” Kathryn anchored her arms over her chest, hoping she wasn’t hopelessly wrinkling her soft white shirt.
“No.” His gaze swung over to hers, and seas of deep blue-green washed over her. “Things are still pretty much the same.”
She nodded, forcing herself not to look away. He needed her to be professional, and one way or the other, she was not going to let him down. Going to the angled wall along the edge of the room, she opened the door where the Bakers had been the day before. As she figured, it was already ready for the next family. Walking into the room, she sucked in a breath of stale, sorrowful air and let it out in small ragged burst of air. The bed was so very empty and too sterile for her grieving heart. She hated this part. She truly did.
Tears slipped up into her chest, but she beat them back. “As you can see, the rooms are quite large.”
“It’s kind of dark.” He followed her in and then stepped past her to the chair next to the side wall.
“Oh, it doesn’t have to be, but most of our families like it that way.” She went back to the door, determined not to notice anything about him. At the entrance she turned on the overhead light. “When patients come to us, they are usually beyond the point of consciousness. I think because they look asleep, families generally feel more comfortable keeping the lights low.”
From the door, she watched as he walked across the room to the little end table with the lamp on it. Before she had turned on the overhead light, it had been the room’s only illumination. He picked up the little Death and Dying brochure that was always put out for new families.
“We try to give our families as much guidance to know what to expect as we can,” she said, her gaze never leaving his back. “We have counselors on staff 24/7 and a chaplain on call as well.”
He lifted the brochure for her to see though he didn’t turn. “Looks like you’ve thought of everything.”
What to say to that? He sounded annoyed or mad. She couldn’t quite tell.
“It’s a lot like the time issue we talked about yesterday. Every family is different in their approach. For some this time is peaceful and calm and prayerful. For others, confusion and fear reign, and calming that confusion is a very real component of our role. Many people have never gone through the death of a close loved one. It can be an overwhelming experience.”
With his back still turned, Ben raised his hand and then laughed that little laugh that tore her heart out. “I’m thinking a trial run would’ve been nice right about now.”
“It wouldn’t matter.”
This time he turned just slightly. “Oh, yeah? What? You don’t think it would get easier?”
Her heart knew the truth all too well. “It’s never easy to say good-bye.”
She said it so gently, so without judgment or condescension that he almost believed she meant it.
Ben considered everything, thinking it through one more time, and then knowing what he had to do, he turned to her. For all of two seconds he thought he could lay it out for her like an adult. Then that wall crumbled. He reached up and scratched his head. “I… I think it’s time. I do.” His gaze slipped up to hers and then fell.
“Okay.” With a single nod, she waited for more.
He glanced up at her again, hoping she wouldn’t think him stupid or unbelievably weak. “I don’t… Um, this isn’t…” Hating himself for sounding like an idiot, he crushed the tears back inside him and cleared his throat.
In two steps she closed the space between them. “Please, let’s sit,” she said, indicating the couch.
Truth was, he was thankful for that. His legs were starting to feel like jelly. Once he was down, he searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. “I’m normally not like this… with things. It’s just… My dad was my hero. I looked up to him in a
way I guess most kids look up to their fathers, or maybe they don’t. I don’t know.” He let out a slow breath to calm the racing of the emotions. “My mom and dad split when I was 13. I chose to stay with my dad.
“He was really busy with work, but he always made time for me. He always wanted to know how I was doing and what was going on in my life. Even when he was super busy, he always found a way to include me in his life.”
“He sounds like a great dad.”
“He was.” Ben nodded, a smile coming to his face as his hands came together at his knees. “I always wanted to be just like him, you know? Carry on the tradition. But doctoring was not my specialty. I think I liked partying a little too much.” He laughed softly. “It was a lot better than Anatomy and Physiology, that’s for sure. So I went into pharmaceuticals, and when I got out, Dad helped me swing a job with a drug company.”
Falling into the memories, Ben hardly realized he was still talking out loud. “Everyone loved my dad. I couldn’t go anywhere that they didn’t know him, and I think that made me even prouder of him. And I wanted him to be proud of me, you know? I wanted him to be able to say, ‘That’s my son. Ben Warren.’
“I…” The story stopped for a moment as he remembered his father as he had been what seemed a blink ago, not as he now was. “I never wanted to let him down, you know?” He sniffed back the sudden tears and wiped his nose that was betraying his effort not to cry. “I guess that’s what I feel like I’m doing now, with this, like I’m letting him down.”
“Is your father living the life he would want to live now?”
Instantly a picture of his father in that bed flashed into his mind. “No.”
She let that word hang there in his heart for a long moment. “There is nothing wrong with heroic life saving if your efforts actually bring that life back. That’s what they did to begin with. But there comes a time when holding onto a life that needs to go on only prolongs the inevitable.”
Coming Undone Page 6