I thought Matron might say no, but she was fond of Nelly, too, and her eyes softened as she said: ‘Of course.’
Hardly believing that I was simply going to visit Nelly, give her a lethal dose of morphine and then leave again, I walked quickly down my ward and out into the corridor.
My heart was thumping and my legs felt weak. I could stop this, I thought. I didn’t have to do this. I could end it now and tell Nelly I wasn’t going to do as she’d asked.
As she’d begged.
And yet, my legs kept moving towards Nelly’s room.
The nurses in the ward were efficiently preparing beds – they were obviously expecting some more patients too. One of them looked up and gave me a little wave, but they barely acknowledged me as I slipped into Nelly’s side room and shut the door behind me.
‘Nell?’
Nelly’s eye blinked open.
‘Were you sleeping?’
She shook her head gently.
‘I’ve come …’ I said. My voice shook. ‘I’ve come to do as you asked.’
Nelly reached out and took my hand, squeezing my fingers tightly.
I looked down at her hand on mine, noticing that her fingertips were dusky purple and her knuckles were swollen. She didn’t have long, I thought. Even if I didn’t do this now, there was no doubt that she was dying. But this way the end would be quick and painless. She would fall asleep and she wouldn’t wake up and I would be by her side.
‘I have the morphine,’ I said, speaking slowly and clearly, but quietly. ‘If you want me to administer it, please squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.’
Nelly squeezed once. I felt dizzy suddenly and I was glad she was holding me. I looked round at the closed door of her room.It was shut tight, but on a whim, I pulled the chair from next to the bed to block it. Just in case. Through the window I could see nurses bustling past. No one would bother us, I thought.
‘I’m going to prepare the dose now,’ I said. ‘Remember we discussed you hitting the bedclothes if you want me to stop? Don’t forget.’
Nelly’s fingers stayed still. Carefully I let go of her hand and laid it on the sheet. Then I went to the end of her bed and checked her drug chart to see how much morphine she’d been given. I’d done my sums over and over but I wanted to be sure. Satisfied I knew how much to give her, I filled the syringe I’d brought with me, put it on a tray, and went back to her bedside.
‘Nelly,’ I said, stroking her hair and speaking softly. ‘It’ll just be a sharp scratch and then you’ll go to sleep. I’ll be here the whole time.’ I swallowed. ‘Can you hit the bedclothes if you want me to stop?’
I fixed my eyes on her hand. It didn’t move.
Fighting the urge to throw the syringe into the waste bin and run away, I cleaned her arm, and then I tried to pick up the syringe, but my hands were trembling so violently that I couldn’t even do that.
‘Sorry,’ I murmured. ‘Sorry.’ I took a deep breath, clenching my hands into fists and then releasing them. When I felt less shaky, I tried again. This time I fumbled a little but picked up the syringe.
‘Last chance,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
Nelly’s hand twitched and I froze, my eyes never moving from her fingers. But instead of hitting the sheets, she brought her hand up towards her mouth, touching her fingers to her chin briefly and them taking them away. I smiled. She’d had a deaf patient on her ward a few months before who had used sign language and we’d all picked up a few things. “Thank you,” Nelly was signing.
‘You’re welcome,’ I whispered. ‘Ready?’
Nelly gave a tiny nod.
‘I love you, Nell.’ I said. Then with a deep breath, I put thesyringe into her arm and pushed the drug into my best friend’s vein.
When I was done, I leaned over and kissed her head, noticing her eye was closed already and her breathing was slowing. Quickly, I cleared away the mess, dropping the syringe and bottles into the waste bin and putting the tray back where I’d taken it from. As I worked, I counted Nelly’s rasping breaths. One … two … Slow, slower, slower. I reached out and felt her pulse. It was very weak now and I could barely feel it, though her wrist was thin and frail and her skin was so pale that her veins were visible. Around her nose and mouth was some frothy liquid. I knew that meant her lungs were failing. Very gently, I wiped it away and bent over her, listening for another breath.
None came.
I watched for a moment, to see if her chest would continue to rise and fall. But it didn’t. She was gone.
I breathed in deeply, a painful, juddering breath. I wanted to throw my head back and wail because Nelly was dead and I had killed her and I would miss her. But instead I wiped my eyes and straightened my dress. There were patients to attend to and jobs to do.
