Good bye Mom

I had just finished writing this piece and was getting ready to post it, when I got an email that my mother had died at 2 pm today.
I think she was telling me good bye.

HOSPICE

Martha floats, a little above the bed, looking down at her fractured hip. “Poor thing,” she says. “Poor baby.” She pats the air beneath her hand absentmindedly. “Oh, it’s okay, it’ll be all right. Not too bad.”

The drapes are pulled almost shut and that’s not right. “We need light in here. Light!” She tries to yank them back, but fails. “Open the goddamned drapes!” she screams at the nurse, the doctor, her daughter Barbara who is sobbing into her lap. “Jesus, can’t one of you assholes hear me? It’s a simple enough thing to do. Just –open—the drapes.”

A nurse she hasn’t seen before steps into the room, goes directly to the window and very gently slides the drapes open—right, then left. Not all the way, only three feet, but it’s a tremendous relief to her. “Thank you,” she yells at the new nurse. And unlike the others, this one tilts her head and looks directly at the hovering face above her.

“You are very welcome,” she says quietly, a whisper, a caress. Then she turns, looks up out of the window for a moment and leaves the room.

“Did’ja see that?” She pokes her sobbing daughter with the first two fingers of her right hand, rigid like blunt knives. “Did’ja?” Her daughter ignores the poke—focusing on the emaciated woman in the hospital bed. The doctor has his hand on Barbara’s left shoulder and he’s talking to her intently, earnestly.

“She’s—I’m—not dead you know, just asleep. You’d be asleep too if you were shot full of as much pain meds as they gave me.”

The doctor is bending down now, he’s so close to her daughter’s ear, Martha thinks he might bite it off or stick his tongue in there. Barbara is shaking her head from side to side—no, no, no, no. The doc’s squeezing her shoulder, patting her back, his head is nodding—yes, yes, yes. She wants to smack both of them.

“Listen you,” she says. “Remember last night when I said ‘No surgery’? What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” The doctor puts his hand under Barbara’s elbow and lifts her right up out of the chair. They slowly walk into the hall and the doctor pulls the door shut behind them. “Shit,” Martha says. “That moron will let them do it. She’ll let him talk her into it. She couldn’t make a decision if her life depended on it.”

But the only people left in the room are, well, her and –her. So she’s just talking to herself. “I don’t want any doctor cutting on me, you know what mama used to say, ‘Doctors don’t know anything, they’re just practicing.’ And I sure as hell agree.”



It’s black for a minute and then she’s back. Her own poor baby self is still asleep in the hospital bed, but the room is new. “What the hell?” she mutters, then checks her body out—no cuts, no bandages. “Well, good for her, she didn’t let that asshole doctor do the surgery.” She’s ridiculously happy that her daughter finally made a decision on her own. “Good for you!” she shouts down at Barbara’s head, but gets no response.

That nurse who opened the drapes is here—sitting in one of those hard metal chairs institutions buy by the hundreds. Martha eyeballs her hard, and sure enough the nurse looks up. “What’s going on? Where are we?" Martha asks.

The nurse mouths “hospice.” Then says, “Take it easy hon, nothing to worry about, we’re right on schedule. Just waiting now. He’ll be here in a minute to give you a hand.” Martha’s pissed, she doesn’t want the damned doctor back to help her with anything. But the nurse points to the door. “See?”

He has a toothpick in his mouth and his hair is blonde instead of silver. It’s her own sweet honey-bunny husband Frank who had the nerve to die on her four years ago.
“Oh honey, I’m so glad… I’ve missed you so much.”

He grins at her, checks his watch and puts his finger up to his lips. “Hush up, baby. Pretty soon now. C’mon down here with me.” She glances at the nurse who nods agreement and Martha drifts down to his side. He puts his arm around her and she leans into him, it feels so good to her. “You comfy? It won’t be too much longer, you just keep leaning on me.” He checks his watch again and tightens his arm.

The nurse has closed her eyes. Frank and Martha watch the old woman in the bed and wait.