Life Is Eternalby Carly Simon
Winter used to be my favorite time at the shore. Ocean City was nearly a ghost town during December, compared to how it was in the middle of summer; the locals were there, but thanks to the biting cold and damp air, most of us stayed indoors unless it was absolutely necessary. I loved having the beach to myself, or just about, when my parents and I would come down before Christmas. The ocean seemed wilder, loud and forbidding, the sand was blown into peaks and valleys, and I often found shells I didn’t at other times of the year.
But this year, the creeping gray of each new dawn felt threatening instead of comforting. It seemed that death drew nearer every hour, no matter how much I tried to ignore it. I’d fought against the sense of impending doom by going absolutely crazy with my Christmas decorating; we had a huge tree in the great room, and then I’d also bought a smaller artificial one for Nate’s room. He didn’t venture beyond his bed anymore, but he’d smiled faintly when I’d plugged in the lights for the first time.
Sheri had hauled down all their family ornaments and special decorations. She and I had made a big show of hanging the ornaments on Nate’s tree as she’d told the story behind each one. She was determined to include her son, but although she ended every sentence by saying, “Right, Nate?” or “Remember that, sweetie?” he rarely responded beyond a slight nod or a wisp of a smile.
With each day, as Nate began to retreat and fade, Sheri stepped up her frantic gaiety. She played Christmas music around the clock, baked cookies, made candy and addressed Christmas cards as though this were just another holiday season. If I hadn’t seen the bleak desperation behind her eyes, I might have been angry, but I’d realized early on that Sheri was dealing with everything in her own way. So I was patient with her as much as I could be. I helped with the cookies, and I hummed along to the carols until I was fairly sure we’d listened to every damn version ofJingle Bellsthat existed.
Mark was down with us as often as he could be. I’d overheard the two of them arguing one night when I couldn’t sleep; they were on the deck, but the walls were thin, and their voices carried. Sheri wanted Mark to take a leave of absence from work and spend these weeks with us, down in Ocean City. Mark wasn’t ready to do that yet.
“Maybe it makes me a coward, Sher, but sometimes the only thing that gets me through being here is the thought that I get to leave.” I’d heard the anguish and guilt in his tone, and my eyes had filled with tears. “I know you have to be with Nate as much as you can. But God,God, watching him die is fucking tearing me apart. So you do what you have to do to cope, to get through it, and I’ll do what I have to do. And we’ll be here for each other. Okay? Right now, you don’t need me here. When you do, you tell me, and I promise I’ll come running. But until then, please, Sher. Don’t make me sit and watch.”
I’d crept back to bed, unwilling to hear them debate anymore. When Mark left the next morning, it was clear to me who’d won for now.
But as much as Sheri jealously guarded each second with her son, I’d noticed that she always found a way to be out when the hospice nurse came by. At first, the nurse was only there two or three times a week, but as the days began to shorten the further into December we drifted, one or another of the nurses visited daily. They’d offered us the services of a certified nurse’s aide as well, to stay during the day or night in case we needed help with any of Nate’s medication or comfort care, but between Sheri and me, we were able to handle everything. At this point, it was only a matter of keeping him calm and comfortable, and since he slept most of the time, that wasn’t difficult.
About a week before Christmas, Sheri had conveniently run out to the post office when Jacey, the hospice nurse who managed Nate’s case, made her visit. I sat in the room as she examined Nate, and we kept up our regular banter, with both of us teasing Nate and talking to him, even when he didn’t really respond.
When she’d finished, Jacey caught my eye and jerked her head toward the doorway. “Nate, my dear, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to steal your beautiful bride for a few minutes. I need her to look at some of the dreaded paperwork.” She made a face. We’d often joked about how much she loved her job but hated the attendant reports.
Nate gave a slight nod, catching my hand as I passed. I paused, smiling into his barely-open eyes, and kissed his forehead. “Be right back.”
Jacey closed the door behind us and followed me into the kitchen, where she sat down at the table. “Quinn, sweetie, we need to talk a little. I think ... I think we’re getting close, hon. And you need to know what to expect.”
A lump rose in my throat as I leaned on the back of the chair across from the nurse. “When you say close, what do you mean?”
She tilted her head. “Two weeks, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Now remember, this is just my hunch. I’ve had patients go faster than I’d ever anticipated, and I’ve had others live much longer than I’d hoped. But there are signs. Did you read the booklet I gave you a few weeks back?”
I glanced at the manila folder that sat on the nearby shelf. All the hospice information was in there, but I’d left most of that for Sheri to deal with; I figured since her insurance was covering this service, she was better equipped to handle it.
“I glanced at it, but I didn’t exactly read it cover to cover.” One thing Jacey had asked of me the first time we met was complete honesty, so I wasn’t going to fib about this.
“That’s normal. No one wants to read about what to look for at the end when they first come onto hospice. But you might want to check it out now. There’re parts of it that will be helpful.” She paused a beat. “How’s Nate mother handling this? I haven’t seen her in a while, but you said she’s still living here?”
I nodded. “She’s doing okay. I mean, under the circumstances.”
“All right.” Jacey gnawed the side of her lip. “The most important thing I want you to remember is that things could get scary toward the end. But it’ll only be alarming for you and for Nate’s parents, not for him. He might begin seeing people or things that aren’t there—or at least that we can see. He may begin saying things that don’t make sense—to you. Just go with it. Don’t argue with him, and try not to let it freak you out. Realize that this is part of the process.”
I inhaled deeply and pulled out the chair to sit down. I so didn’t want to be having this conversation. I wanted to be at home in Eatonboro, lying in my own bed, listening to music and reading, without a care in the world. But this was where I had to be. This was where I was meant to be. I could be strong enough.
“If anything happens that upsets you too much, you call me. Someone will come. Sometimes it’s enough just to have another person present, someone who’s been through this before and can tell you it’s all right. Never hesitate, okay? That’s why I’m here. It’s my job.”
I managed a shaky laugh. “You have a sucky job, you know that, Jacey?”
She considered that for a moment and then shook her head. “Most people think that, but it’s actually not true. Being with people when they’re dying, when they’re transitioning from this world to the next, being with the families ... it’s a privilege. I know that lots of folks are afraid of death and hate to think about dying, but I count myself fortunate. When death is imminent, it’s a thin place. All the petty, trivial things lose their meaning in these times. No matter what your spiritual beliefs are, I’ve yet to find the person who’s been present at a passing who isn’t affected by it.”
I hadn’t thought about it like that at all. “So it doesn’t make you sad?”
Jacey flipped up one hand. “Oh, sure it does. Seeing a family lose someone they love is terribly sad. My heart breaks for them every time. But I know that if I’m doing my job, the fact that I’m there eases the grief just a little. I hope I can help them make the most of the time they do have, and I hope I can help them process their sorrow. It isn’t easy, trust me, but it’s worth it.”
I rested my chin on my hand. “I’m scared about what’s going to happen ... when Nate goes. I’m afraid I won’t be able to be strong up to the end. I don’t know how Sheri’s going to keep on going, and I’m worried that I won’t be able to hold her up.”
“Right now, you can’t imagine it, and that’s okay. But you’re going to do fine, kiddo.” She patted my hand. “Did you know that before I worked for hospice, I was a labor and delivery nurse?”
“No.” I was surprised. The two jobs seemed like opposite ends of the spectrum.
“True story. See, there’s not that much difference between birth and death. That’s what most people don’t realize. They’re both unpredictable. A doctor can say when a babymightbe born, but in the end, it’s up to the mom and baby and nature. Same with death. I can see the signs, but I can’t give you a date or time. And both are a matter of surrendering. The mom has to give into the process of birthing, just like a dying person—Nate—has to surrender to the process of dying.”
