Life Unbothered

by Charlie Elliott

  I needed to clean her backside, so I pulled a folding metal chair from the small patio outside and set it next to the couch and began lifting her. With her body strength almost entirely depleted, hoisting her up was like lifting an oversized box filled with a couple of complete sets of old encyclopedias. I grunted as I dragged Sophia a few feet across the floor and propped her in the chair.

  Sophia rocked sideways to-and-fro on the folding chair as I wiped the sofa with a bath towel. With each sway of her body, she would rock down further until one large contortion toppled her to the floor. She whimpered a bit as her nude body settled limply on the carpet. I stopped wiping the sofa immediately and crouched next to her, getting my center of gravity as low as I could to prop her back up on the cold metal seat.

  I continued frantically cleaning the couch with my right hand, while my left arm tried to steady Sophia on the chair. I finished wiping the couch as much as I could and then sat for a few minutes on the edge of the cushion. While seated, I continued jutting out my arm to secure her bending body on the chair. I contemplated how to lift her off the seat to clean the back of her body.

  After the brief rest, I wrapped paper towels around my hands to transform them into makeshift cleaning mitts. I moved behind Sophia and secured my bundled hands under her armpits. I took in a breath and lifted her off the chair, using one foot to kick her legs far apart enough to help hold her weight. Her feet flopped around a couple of times before settling firmly on the floor about eight inches apart.

  I got my weight under her, removed my left hand from her armpit, and started wiping her back. As I quickly swiped down her body, I noticed she had a large, urine soaked sterile pad taped across both cheeks of her rear. A hospice nurse put it there to relieve the bedsores that had now spread to consume almost her entire buttocks.

  I continued wiping across the back of her body until my right arm, secured tightly under Sophia’s armpit, started shaking from her weight. Not being able to hold her any longer, I set her down hard on the chair and caught my breath while keeping my arm on her neck to steady her body.

  Deciding to try it one more time, I inhaled deeply and lifted her off the chair. I once again removed my left arm from under her armpit and wiped her back and thighs. As I lowered my left arm and rubbed in disorderly motions on the backs of her legs, I gave my right hand a hard twist in her armpit. Crack. Her shoulder bent back as her upper body weight propelled her forward, crimping her right shoulder almost all the way to her shoulder blade.

  “Mistake. Mistake,” Sophia garbled as loudly as she could and dropped to her knees as I could no longer support her weight.

  The cracking sound made me woozy for a moment as I speculated either her collarbone was broken or her shoulder severely dislocated. Now seated on the floor, Sophia leaned against the chair with her head down and chin touching on her chest.

  It was clear I couldn’t continue cleaning her myself and remove the wet sterile pad from her—I needed help. My first choice would have been to call my mom and dad, but they were in New Mexico for Christmas. They canceled their trip earlier and were going to stay home because of Sophia, but I insisted they spend the holidays in New Mexico and not change their previously set plans. I didn’t want to call anyone in Sophia’s family; none of them would be able to stomach the situation. I didn’t want to call out a hospice nurse on Christmas Eve, they had been quite helpful the past month and I felt they had already provided more than enough care.

  The only person strong and reliable enough to help was Richard Haverport. I contemplated putting my best friend and boss in this situation, but had no other choice. I ran the three steps it took to get to the kitchen counter and retrieved my phone. With two quick hops, I returned to Sophia to hold her body vertical while I dialed.

  When Richard answered the phone, he was at home with his two daughters and wife getting ready to open some presents. He agreed to assist without hesitation as I apologized for taking him away from his family.

  Sophia remained seated on the floor leaning against the chair while I waited for Richard to arrive. As I placed clean towels over the leather couch cushions, I pondered how to prep him verbally before he entered the apartment.

  It took Richard about ten minutes to arrive, thankfully it was not a busy night for traffic delays. His voice cracked loudly through the front gate intercom that announced his arrival. I punched in the access code so he could pull his truck into the parking area. I went outside to meet Richard, closing the front door and leaving Sophia to her depleted body strength. A few seconds later, Richard appeared on the winding sidewalk, walking with a quick step before stopping abruptly about six inches from me.

  “Hey,” Richard said, as he gave me an intense look, not knowing what to expect. I failed to give him details over the phone, but emphasized I needed assistance with Sophia.

  “Hey Richard. Thanks for coming over. I know it’s Christmas Eve and all, but I really need some help.”

  “No problem. Of course I’ll help.”

  I moved back a step, almost shielding the front door. My eyes diverted down. I wasn’t quite sure how to initiate the conversation.

  “Uh… I hate to do this to you, but I need help lifting Sophia up and getting her back on the couch.”

  “That’s it?” Richard asked, relieved at the task.

  “Wait, it’s not that simple. She’s gone to the bathroom all over herself and I’ve got to clean her back while you hold her.”

  Richard’s face sunk as he noticed the urine splotches on the front of my shirt and pants. The look left little doubt that he had figured out the wet stains were not just water.

  “Now, before we go in, let’s rehearse what we’re going to do,” I said. “First of all, I know you haven’t seen her for about three months, so try to keep your reaction to a minimum. She looks nothing like she used to.”

  Richard nodded his understanding.

  “Secondly, she’s naked. I’m going to call you ‘Nurse’ instead of by your name, just in case she recognizes you. I’m not quite sure she will, but I don’t want her to be embarrassed.”

  I walked behind Richard to illustrate the lifting motion I had tried earlier on Sophia. He stood silently as I sized up his six-foot, three-inch frame. He was taller and stronger than I was, so odds were he could keep Sophia upright long enough for me to clean her and remove the mushy sterile pad.

  “This is what we are going to do,” I continued. “She’s sitting on the living room floor. I want you to get behind her and lift under her arms.” I shoved my hands in Richard’s armpits to demonstrate the procedure. “She’s deadweight, so you are going to have to lift hard without stopping.”

  “Like this?” Richard turned around, faced me, and lifted my body an inch off the ground with his hands under my pits.

  “Exactly. But, I want you to approach her from the back so she won’t see you. Her backside is full of urine, so I would suggest keeping a gap between your body and her. It will also give me room to squeeze in between you two and wipe her off. There is a sterile pad taped to her butt that I’m going to have to remove.”

  Richard grimaced, formulating a clearer picture of the scene.

  “I’ll try to clean as fast as I can, but you’re going to have to hold her using only your arm strength for as long as you can handle. You ready?” I asked.

  “Shit, Wade. It’s that bad?”

  “I’m used to it, but it’s pretty bad. If you have any problems holding her, just let me know. If you can’t do this, it’s all right. I’ll understand.”

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Richard said firmly, staring at the front door waiting to see what was behind it.

  I was about to open the door when I paused and said, “Oh, one more thing… I think I may have just broken her right shoulder when I tried doing this alone. So try not to move it around much.”

  Richard’s mouth gaped as his head shook
in disbelief. I turned and immediately opened the door before any hesitation could settle into either of us. When we made our brisk entrance, Sophia was still on the floor with her upper body propped against the folding chair. Her long tangled hair fell over her slumped head, the ends of her black strands rested on the carpet.

  “Okay Nurse,” I said to Richard. “Get behind her and I’ll move the chair.” He positioned himself as his face turned bright red, then flushed immediately pale. Sophia lifted her head when she realized people were near.

  “Honey, I’ve got a nurse here to help get you cleaned up and back on the couch.” Sophia looked up at me and nodded, before recoiling in embarrassment.

  “What nurse?” she mumbled.

  “Just a nurse to help. It’s okay, don’t be upset.”

  She put her head back down and drew her legs in closer trying to conceal some of her naked body.

  “Nurse, start lifting,” I ordered. Richard hesitantly secured his arms under Sophia’s armpits. As he raised her, I kicked the chair out of the way. Richard grimaced and exhaled a forceful grunt. “You have her?”

  “Uh-huh,” he moaned with his teeth showing, surprised by the weight.

  I crouched down and wedged between their two bodies, frantically wiping Sophia’s legs and thighs with a dampened towel. As my hand approached the wet sterile pad, I threw the towel aside and tugged on one end of the tape. It flopped off easily from the soggy wrinkled skin. I gave it a harder tug and noticed that thick layers of skin were peeling off along with the tape. It felt like I was pulling the skin off cold raw chicken.

  I flinched as I pulled, not knowing if Sophia could feel the moist skin tearing off in thick layers. Sophia’s body started shaking as I heard Richard groan in pain. He wouldn’t be able to hold her much longer. I pursed my lips and swung my hand fast. The wet sterile pad tore off in one swift yank as the skin flaps that remained on her cheeks bent backward, resting against her body. It was a sight I hoped to never see again.

  “Okay, can you put her on the couch?” I asked Richard.

  He crabbed his way over to the towel-lined leather sofa and set her down. As Sophia fell on the couch, her eyes opened slightly. I skirted in front of Richard so she wouldn’t see him.

  “You can wash at the kitchen sink,” I said, as we both stared vacantly at each other for a second, reflecting the distasteful task.

  Richard walked to the sink, arms extended in front of him. He quickly removed his shirt and turned on the tap water to rinse his arms. I covered Sophia with a clean blanket and adjusted her pillow.

  I went into the kitchen and watched Richard scrub his arms with controlled urgency. He wadded up his shirt, not wanting to wear it on the drive home. When he finished meticulously washing and drying his upper body, I scooted him to the door and escorted him outside.

  “I didn’t know it was this bad,” Richard said. He panted as his shirtless body felt no cold in the chilly December marine air. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “How could I explain it to anybody? It’s been like this for the past two weeks. It’s getting worse… and fast.”

  “Do you want to take some time off work? Take all the time you need.”

  “Work is the only time for me to get away. The nights and weekends are becoming very hard to handle. If I didn’t have work, I don’t know if I could take this twenty-four hours a day.”

  “I don’t believe this. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”

  “I know. Thank you for coming over.” I wiped my hand on a dry section of my pants and patted Richard’s bare shoulder. “Sorry I had to expose you to this. You were the only one I could call.”

  “No problem,” Richard said, staring at the few cars passing by on Capital Avenue. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Just get back to your family,” I said.

  I watched Richard speed-walk up the winding sidewalk to his truck. “Merry Christmas,” I whispered as he disappeared around the corner.

  27. Come to the Parade

  A sudden bumping movement awoke me on New Year’s Eve morning. In the darkened bedroom, I could make out Sophia’s hunched-over profile sitting on my side of the bed. A large chrome flashlight sat tucked against her left thigh.

  “I’m scared,” she said. A static perplexed look washed over her face. “I have no function anymore. I can’t think. It’s time to die.”

  I stared at her profile while coming to a fully awake state.

  Her slow slurred speech continued, “What would happen if you gave me all the Morphine? Should I do that? Would it make me go?”

  “You will die soon.” I grasped her left arm and sat up to give her a peck on the side of her forehead.

  “But when?”

  “Soon, Honey. Just go back to sleep and it will happen.”

  Sophia remained slumped on the bed as I noticed the sun had yet to flicker through the sides of the window shades. In a cautious manner, she freed the flashlight pressed snugly under her thigh and aimed it toward the clock mounted on the unlit bedroom wall. She adjusted the ray of light until its round beam settled on the face, enabling her to read the time. Eyes squinted tightly, she stared at the clock until the flashlight fell out of her hand and bounced to the floor. Time was still so important to her, although it really meant nothing. Her only responsibility was tracking her Morphine doses, the one sliver of control she had left in her life.

  My head dizzied at the realization that Sophia wanted her life to cease. I always believed killing a terminally ill person pleading for mercy from their misery was something I could carry out. The actual situation, though, brought on a drastically different feeling. Sophia now faced acceptance of her mortality and was summoning me to assist in her death.

  “You will be in heaven before long. Wouldn’t you rather die with dignity instead of committing suicide?”

  “Dignity? I can’t even go to the bathroom without someone helping me.” Her voice was delicately weak, yet it had an assertive tone. “There’s no dignity left. I’m already dead.”

  Sophia no longer wanted to fight; she wanted peace. It would be best for her, and although I hated to admit it or even have the thought arise, it would also be best for me.

  “When’s my next Morphine dosage?”

  “Two hours. Just rest and I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  Her face wrinkled in clouded calculation. “Two hours?”

  Sophia reclined next to me and stared at the ceiling. Weakened, her body could not sit upright for too long.

  “Why won’t you give me all the Morphine?”

  “Because I’m scared, Honey. I don’t know if I could handle killing you. I would have no idea how many pills to give you.”

  She turned her head slowly and glanced at the pill bottle on the nightstand next to the bed. “There’s probably enough in there.”

  “Honey, you’re the one who convinced me not to take my medication and I thank you for that dearly. But… now you want to die by some?”

  Sophia gained the strength to smile. “That was different. You just needed some love. I’m dying.”

  I glanced at the nightstand where the large Morphine bottle sat and wondered if I could feed her enough to die peacefully. Sophia settled in closer to me.

  “It’s not that I’m trying to be selfish ,” I pleaded, “concerned with my feelings while you’re in such agony. I just cannot bear to do this. Please, please, Sweetness, don’t make me.”

  Her eyes rolled in her deeply indented sockets, not satisfied with my response.

  It was unfair for a young life to end in such a tragic way, but the terrifying fear of not knowing how her body would react to an overdose made me hesitant to accommodate her last wish.

  “Honey, it’s okay to die,” I continued. “It doesn’t mean you were too weak to fight the cancer, or gave up. If you want to die, it’ll h
appen in due time. Just let yourself go.”

  “Yes, I want to die,” Sophia attested, before pausing for a minute in deep contemplation. “Remember the day after my operation when you told me about the parade and how I have to take charge of my life and shouldn’t wait for the parade to come to me?”

  “Yeah, kind of.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in a manner that looked painful. “What would that mean now?” Though dulled by disease, her mind was still able to reason.

  “Well, if you wish to die, your body and mind will make that happen. They will, I guess, take you to the parade.”

  She turned her head and exposed a strained grin on her gaunt face. Despite her terrible condition, I was, as always, mesmerized by her fiercely penetrating eyes and innate beauty. I knew she could still negotiate with me.

  “Wade, I want to go to the parade. Will you please take me?”

  I drew my arms close to the side of my body while I felt an involuntary tensing in all my muscles.

  “Wade,” her voice trembled, “I said I want to go to the parade. Will you please take me?”

  I pointed my head upward, felt a flash of torrid heat streak across my forehead and course all the way to the back of my cranium. My hands numbed while the tips of my fingers started tingling as if the appendages were falling asleep and regaining blood concurrently. A bead of sweat surfaced so fast on my temple, the drop immediately jutted its way out of a pore to forge a surrendering rivulet down my face. In that brief moment of mental overload coupled with acute bodily reactions, I accepted what I was about to do and prayed a higher power would also understand.

  “Honey,” I replied, exhaling a hard deep sigh of resignation, “I’ll take you to the parade.”

  28. Swallow

  It took me four hours to determine how to accommodate Sophia’s last request in this world. I asked her repeatedly if she truly wanted to die. She held her ground stoically and avowed it was time to go.