5 Days in April - Day 4

April 12, 1998

Mom slept unusually well, not getting up a single time to go to the bathroom. And her breathing was better than the night before. Very little coughing and only a little congestion. She didn't wake up once until 8:15. When she began stirring, I took her a morphine pill and a happy pill. She took them, got up, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. We got her dressed and went downstairs. She seemed to feel a little better than she had the past few mornings. She ate some Corn Flakes, smoked a cig, then went up to Ruby's room to fix her Easter basket. After she was finished and the basket was on Ruby's bed, she came back downstairs, grabbed a deck of cards and sat on the back porch playing solitaire. I put some laundry in to wash and walked out there to join her. "How are we doing?", I asked. "Pretty good, I guess." "You seem to feel a little better this morning." "Yeah, maybe so," she replied. "I bet it because you slept so well." "Maybe so," she answered, "at 10:30 we need to deliver the cornbread. We need to drive. You could walk, but I can't." Mom had become short on attention span and long on non-linear thought since she began taking so many pain pills. "OK, we'll take the car," I said. Mom went back to her cards and I sat in the rocking chair and watched the birds at the feeders. All of the sudden they all flew away, as if scared by something that I couldn't see.

I took a shower and dressed and we set off to deliver the cornbread. First we drove just down the street to the Tillman's. Mom waited in the car while I put the cornbread, wrapped in tin foil with a little chocolate egg on top, on their porch. Then we drove back past our house and down Nock's Hill towards the Jansen's. The Jansens had moved to Cheraw from Iowa several years ago and they and mom had become fast friends. Joyce was always bringing food by and helping mom with things, and Ernie, an excellent carpenter and furniture builder, had done so much for mom. Mom wanted to show them how much they meant to her. As we drove up their driveway, they came out the back door to greet us. When they saw what mom had brought them, it was clear that mom had succeeded. They were clearly touched by the gesture. We talked with them for a while and then said our good-byes. We drove down to the river to check the water level. Since I would be leaving the next morning, I was keenly aware that this might be the last time I would go to the river with my mother. As we drew closer to the water's edge, I made it a point to take it all in, to swim in every image and feeling. The water was still high, but not as high as it had been the day before when we drove by after going to Teal's. The trees were green and beautiful and the water was flowing peacefully from our left to our right, north to south. There was a couple loading a pontoon boat into the river. Going fishing on Easter Sunday. I missed simple pleasures like that. I longed to live in a small town where such things were possible. Mom looked at the river for a few seconds, commenting that it was receding. With one last glance back towards the sacred waters of my childhood, I drove away, back up the hill. Back home.

When we got home and parked the car in the garage, I asked mom if she wanted to walk around the yard for a while before we went inside. It was a beautiful day. "No, I don't think so," she said. Our back yard, where the woods are and where mom feeds the birds and the animals, is one of the most beautiful places on earth. The fact that mom didn't want to walk around and enjoy it was unmistakenly a very bad sign. "I think I want to just go inside," she continued, "I just want to curl up and die." My heart broke a little more. "Mom, are you in pain? Please help me understand what's going on." "I don't know," she said, "I don't think I'm in pain. I'm just bored. I'm ready to move on to the next place. Do you know that Dr. Kavorkian?" I had worried that mom might decide she wanted to check out early. I also figured she was smart and considerate enough to do it while I was there to spare Ruby the pain and agony. She had asked Ruby the same question a week or so earlier, but I had the feeling if she was going to take that road she would do it on my watch. And that was the right thing for her to do, given Ruby's state of mind. I had told Raina before I left Houston that I was afraid mom might ask me to help her put an end to her pain and suffering. "Oh God," Raina had said sadly, "if she does what will you do?" "I don't know," I said, then "yes I do. If she really wanted me to and she was in agony, I'd do it. It would kill me, but I'd do it."

I stopped and turned to mom, looking into her good eye. "No, mom, I don't know him. But I know of him." I stopped for a second and bent over, my face touching the side of her head. My mouth beside her ear. "I won't let you suffer mom. I promise. If you are truly suffering I want you to tell me. I love you too much to see you suffer." "I know, honey," she said softly. She began moving towards the door and I followed, holding out a hand to steady her as she walked. We went inside and she sat down at the kitchen table. She was sleepy and soon fell asleep, her head on her hands. I went downstairs to put the clothes in the dryer. When I got back upstairs mom had moved to the porch and was sitting at the glass table. "Do you want to play cards?" I asked. "No not really." "OK, just let me know if you do, because I think it would be fun." Again, she was asleep. After 45 minutes I woke her up and asked her what she wanted for lunch. She wasn't hungry, but agreed to eat some oyster stew if I'd make it. We needed oysters so we climbed back into the car and went back to Winn-Dixie. Our third trip in four days. She dozed in the car while I went in, and soon we were headed back home. I made her some oyster stew, following her instructions the whole way. It turned out pretty good and she ate a fair amount of it. After we finished, I found a tennis match on TV and brought a swivel chair from upstairs so she could lean back and see better. I propped it up by placing some music books sideways under the front. I put some pillows behind her head. And for a moment she was content. She was excited about the chair and the tennis match. She watched most of it. Near the end of the last set she fell asleep. While she was napping, Ruth Tillman brought over some goodies from the picnic and asked me to thank mom for the wonderful cornbread. She too was immensely touched by the gesture.

Not long after Ruth left, mom woke up and again moved to the back porch. Annie Eutsler came by and they had a nice visit. The love between those good friends was almost tangible. You could feel it in the room. You could almost touch it. Annie's heart was broken by the thought of losing her best friend, but she was a champ. Coming over almost every day and spending a lot of time with mom. Little hints of normalcy. Little glimpses of the way life used to be. It was good for mom. After Annie left, Glynn and Josephine Baker stopped by. Two more tried and true friends. Glynn had been by to see mom almost every day since she got sick, and Josephine came often too. There was a wonderful bond between these old friends. I often asked mom if she was aware of how many people in town loved her. Our house had been a revolving door of visits, flowers, cards, plates of food and demonstrations of love for the entire period of mom's illness. I hoped she knew how much she was truly loved by a lot of fine people. That fact alone made me glad she had resisted my suggestion that she take treatments in Houston. Josephine brought a big basket of food and some lemonade. More picnic fare that we could eat for supper.

When Glynn and Josephine left, I again asked mom if she wanted to play cards or go for a ride or sit in the backyard or anything else. "No I don't want to. I don't know why. I'm just so tired of not being able to do anything," and for the second time that day, "I just want to curl up and die." She put her head down on the glass table and began to doze. I put my arms around her from behind and stroked the side of her head with my face. "I love you so much mom. I don't know how I'm going to get along without you." After a few minutes I walked back into the den and sat down on the sofa. Mom was sleeping at the table. But without making a sound. For the first time since her horrible headaches had subsided a few weeks earlier, I wondered if she would wake up.

Ruby called to say she was in Spartanburg and would be home in a couple of hours. I filled her in on mom's day. The reasonably good morning and the sad afternoon. Ruby said she was afraid mom was giving up. I told her I didn't know for sure. "I think one of her problems is she's bored out of her mind, but nothing interests her." Later I thought to myself that that sounds a lot like giving up. Ruby filled me in a little about her weekend. I got the distinct impression that things with Erin were more on than off. Ruby said the new roommate wasn't moving in after all. I thought, but didn't say, that that was good and fine but as of two days ago she was. But I knew that would be an unhelpful comment. Plus I was seeing things in black and white, when there were undoubtedly many colors to the story. The thing that mattered was that Ruby would be home in a matter of hours. Mom needed her back, and so did I.

I walked out on the porch to check on mom. She was sleeping soundly. Her breaths light and easy. I let her sleep in peace. I checked my email and surfed around on the internet for about an hour. I heard mom stirring and went out to the porch and helped her up. She needed to go upstairs to use the bathroom. When she came back we decided to eat supper. I fixed each of us a plate of picnic fare. Deviled eggs, potato salad and baked ham. Mom ate pretty well. After I put the dishes away she said "I want to go take a sponge bath and put on my pajamas. Then I'll beat you at Spite and Malice." I helped her upstairs and waited in the hall while she bathed and got into her pajamas. She got finished bathing and changing faster than I thought she would and we went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. Mom was still very depressed and a little agitated as well. She kept saying "I don't know…I don't know what I want to do." It was almost like she had a choice to make. And if that was the case, I was afraid I knew what it was. I dealt the cards and we started playing. Less than ten minutes later, I heard a key in the door. Ruby was home. Mom was genuinely happy to see her and they hugged and talked softly for a long time. Mom told Ruby about our weekend and Ruby told mom about hers. Afterwards, mom and I sat down to finish our game while Ruby got some things out of her car. "I'm tired. I don't want to play anymore," mom said suddenly. Normally mom would play cards all night if she could find someone to play with. This was another bad sign and a definite indication that she was not feeling good. "Why not mom?" I asked. "I don't know. I'm just miserable." "OK, then we'll stop," I said as I picked up the cards. Ruby was back by now and equally worried about mom's state of mind.

Mom fell asleep at the table and Ruby and I talked about our weekends. Ruby was very unhappy about her newfound homelessness and felt betrayed by her friend. I told her she had to find her own happiness and that happiness had to come from inside, not from outside. I didn't know if that was right or not, but I had read it somewhere and it sounded logical. All I wanted was for my sweet sister to find the joy she so much deserved. But I couldn't help thinking that she had a lot of heartbreak in front of her. And only some of it because of mom. Ruby was exhausted after her drive and decided to take a shower and go to bed. She walked over to mom and hugged her. Mom hugged her back and spoke sweetly to her. I thought to myself that this might be the last night the three of us would ever be together. It was almost more than I could bear. I felt like I was dying inside. Losing mom was killing me. The unfairness of it overwhelmed me. How could I be a good father to my baby if I felt like this? I wasn't even sure I believed in God any more. What did that mean as far as her religious education. I had a lot of questions and no answers. All I knew was that in my own way I was almost as miserable as a man could be. Ruby went to bed and mom and I talked for a bit. Then she said she was ready to go to bed, so I helped her upstairs and into the bed. Plato was waiting for her when she got there.

Mom couldn't have her last morphine pill of the day until midnight so I went back downstairs and watched the end of a baseball game. After a few minutes I heard mom moving around so I bounded up the stairs to make sure she was OK. She was coming out of her room, clearly agitated. "I can't sleep," she said, "if I could just sleep." "Well you don't have to sleep if you don't want to. Come on down stairs and we'll sit awhile." "Do you have any sleeping pills?" she asked. I looked at the clock. It was 11:19. "No, but you can go ahead and take your morphine pill. I'm sure it will help you sleep." We went into the kitchen and I gave her the pill and a glass of water. After she took the morphine I gave her a happy pill, hoping it would calm her nerves a bit. She sat at the table, her head on her hands. I rubbed her back and shoulders, but didn't say anything. I had the feeling that she needed peace and quiet. After a few minutes she got up and said "let's try again," and shuffled towards the stairs. I helped her up the stairs and back into bed. Once again, Plato was waiting for her. I wished for the pills to calm her and let her get the sleep she wanted. I went back downstairs and watched the rest of the baseball game. The Astros were playing the Dodgers. The Astros lost a one run lead in the ninth, regained the lead in the top of the tenth, and lost the game in the bottom of the tenth. The Astros, like my mother, could find no relief. I locked the doors, checked to make sure everything in the kitchen was turned off, and cut off the lights. After brushing my teeth, I collapsed in my cot. I couldn't tell if mom was sleeping or if she was lying there suffering silently. I waited until I heard her snoring before I let myself drift off to sleep. I dreamed I was a child again, living in that very house. There were a bunch of big, gorilla like monsters in the back yard. They were trying to get into the house by picking the lock on the back door. I was standing near the back door with my shotgun and a box of shells. In my dream, I turned around to tell mom that I would protect her, but she wasn't there.




© 1998 Kent Newsome