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Thursday, December 22, 2022
Keith stared at the window blinds. The sunlight managed to filter through, and he yearned to walk outside, to feel it on his face, see it reflected in the dazzling snow.
It was time to face facts.
I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.
His skin was breaking down, despite the nurses’ efforts to prevent it from occurring. The pain was excruciating at times, and meds only took the edge off it.
They’re doing their best to care for me, but they can’t fix me.
Blood thinners had been added to his growing list of medication, to prevent blood clots, something he’d expected would happen. He could barely move, his muscles were so weak. His irregular heart rhythm was a cause for concern, and constant checks were made. It seemed as if there was always a nurse in his room.
He wanted to taste cold water again, to eat food that didn’t come through a tube.
He wanted to be comfortable again.
Dr. Perez had visited him that morning, and Keith had lain there, doing his best to take it all in, but in the end, his mind retained only three words.
Termination of treatment.
He’d known it was coming. All their medical interventions were not achieving the desired outcomes. Dr. Perez had told him their goal was to optimize comfort, but more importantly to honor Keith’s preferences, even if that included the removal of ventilatory support to allow a natural death.
It was to be his choice. And seeing Christmas Day dawn looked increasingly less likely.
Anna appeared for possibly the tenth time that morning.
“Your sister is here,” she said quietly. “If you don’t feel up to a visit, tell me, and I’ll let her know.”
His stomach clenched as he recalled their last words. “I want to see her.”
He needed to apologize. He didn’t want Heidi’s final memories of him to be recollections of angry, bitter exchanges.
Anna nodded before injecting the contents of a syringe into his IV. “We’ll move to morphine soon, if this doesn’t help. It will make you more comfortable, and it will make the work of trying to breathe easier.”
“Comfortable sounds good,” he rasped.
She patted his arm, and left him.
Moments later, Heidi was at his bedside, her eyes puffy and reddened.
“Hey.” Keith held his hand out and she took it. “Don’t let yourself get so upset, sis. I’ll be out of it soon, and that’ll be a good thing, right?”
But not before Michael showed up. That was the only reason Keith had said no to extubation.
He wanted to see Michael one last time.
She wiped her eyes. “Keith, I... I have some bad news.”
Her words fell with all the swiftness of an ax through wood, killing his hopes on impact.
“Tell me.”
“Darrell finally found something. A news report from a Melbourne paper, back in 1989.” She swallowed.
Sharp pain lanced through him.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Keith had been deluding himself. He knew that now.
