life in and around NYC is insane

Saturday, March 19, 2016

As we walk into the room, I glance out the window. I can see the Great South Bay, its waters dark and foreboding. My mind flashes back to Jones Beach, to the brisk walk on Friday, how I'd rather be there than here. I'd rather be almost anywhere but in this room, at this moment, with these sad relatives.

I turn and look at Marvin. He is thin...no, emaciated. Skeletal. A darkness hangs in this room, darker even than the sea waters beyond the window.

He recognizes us as we come into the room, whispers a barely-audible greeting before drifting off into the fog of his own mind.

And I am overwhelmed with feelings. I walk out of the room, lean against the corridor wall as I try to catch my breath, before fleeing to the lobby to compose myself. I have spent far too much time in hospitals of late.

When I return, the doctor is speaking with Drew. Palliative care. Morphine. Hospice. The words I knew we would hear, yet so painful. A Muslim doctor in a Catholic hospital dealing with the end-of-life issues of a Jewish man.   Decisions are made, plans to be implemented.

We say goodbye, knowing it will probably be the last time ...

2 comments:

bookworm said...

There has been a lot of sadness in your life recently. I can only send you some good thoughts and hope that things start looking up. Alana ramblinwitham.blogspot.com

songbird's crazy world said...

Thanks, Alana.

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