DRayVan
07-16-2018, 07:34 AM
Harry slammed his clenched fist against the window frame rattling the pane of glass. Tears welled up, and he wiped them with the back of his hand. A wall of diplomas and all the doctor could say was, ‘Ruby’s condition will worsen until a vital portion of her brain succumbs. There’s no treatment and no hope of recovery.’
Harry stared out the dirt-stained bedroom window and gritted his teeth. Dandelions carpeted the backyard, and the grass had gone to seed. The flowerbeds, Ruby’s pride and joy, sprouted weeds, choking the perennials that had flourished under her watchful eye. A huge maple tree blocked the life-sustaining sunlight from reaching most of the yard.
Ruby stirred in the bed next to Harry.
“Ha... Harry.”
“Yes, Ruby. What can I get you?”
“Oh, nothing. My head hurts that’s all.”
The doctor said the pain would increase toward the end. Harry never felt so helpless. Ruby’s vitality was slipping away unstoppable as the receding tide. Harry cleared his throat. “Ruby, do you remember when we planted that maple tree? It was when Jimmy was born.”
Ruby turned toward Harry’s voice and said, “Uh hm.”
“Jimmy was five when he fell off the rope swing and broke his arm. You were pregnant with Mary at the time. We planted a rose bush when she was born. Do you remember? You always loved the smell of roses.”
Dried rose pedals lay on the dresser covered in dust. They had long since turned brown, the water in the bud vase evaporated, and the stem and hip withered.
I should get a fresh rose bud from the bush. Ruby would like that.
But Harry was beyond action.
Ruby moaned and turned away.
“Jim... Jimmy. Where’s Jimmy?”
“Don’t you remember? Jimmy died in the war.”
“Ma... Mary.”
“Mary’s coming in a few days.”
Ruby groaned. “Ooooh, now it hurts so bad... like my head’s being crushed.”
“The doctor ordered some stronger medicine. I’ll get a couple of pills. They’ll help you feel better.”
Harry fumbled to open the pill container. These damn containers; who can open them?
Harry cursed and threw it against the bathroom wall. It bounced and hit the floor but remained intact. Harry stomped on it hard, too hard, and the plastic container shattered and pills scattered everywhere.
Sh*t!
Harry scooped up two pills, found a dirty glass, wiped away the grime, filled it with some tap water, and hurried back to Ruby’s side. Ceiling cobwebs danced back and forth, and dust-bunnies scurried under the bed and dresser recording Harry’s every movement.
“Take these pills, Ruby. You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t. My mouth’s so dry.”
The doctor knew Ruby has trouble swallowing, but that bast*rd ordered pills anyway.
“Ruby, take a little sip of water.”
Ruby pressed her lips to the glass and a trickle of water soothed her parched tongue and mouth. She swallowed. Another sip of water quenched her dry mouth. Harry placed the pills on her tongue and tipped the glass to her lips. Ruby choked down the pills and water. Harry lowered her head to the sweat-stained pillow and ran his fingers through Ruby’s hair, once fiery red but now matted gray. Age and disease had robbed Ruby’s beauty, but to Harry, she was as beautiful as she ever was.
Harry turned away, went into the bathroom, scooped up all the pills he could find, flicked off the dust, put them in a clean glass, and set the glass in the medicine cabinet.
What kind of painkillers are these? The doctor said ‘There’s nothing stronger I can give her.’
Harry rummaged on the floor looking for the pill container and label.
One-two tablets every 4-6 hours taken orally for pain relief. Caution: no more than 8 pills per day.
As he held the pill label in his hand, Harry wondered how much longer Ruby had to suffer, and how much more he could endure. He looked at the glass of pills.
Could I do it? Would Ruby want me to do it?
Harry poured several pills in his hand and starred at them.
They always joked about ending it all if either was faced with an incurable disease. ‘Just strap me to a motorcycle and point me toward a tree,’ Harry would say and break out in thunderous laughter. ‘Strap me behind you,’ Ruby would say.
Neither Harry nor Ruby was laughing, today.
“Harry?”
Harry put the pills in the glass and rushed to Ruby’s side.
“Yes, dear. How’s the pain?”
“Better, but I feel groggy.”
Harry pulled his chair closer to the bed and held Ruby’s hand in his.
“It’s the medication’s side effect. It takes away the pain but leaves you groggy.”
“The rose is dead.”
“What?”
“The rose in the vase is dead. I always liked fresh roses, thorns and all.”
Damn, I should have taken the time to get a fresh rose from the garden.
Harry never knew when Ruby’s lucidity would surface. He damned himself for not being prepared.
“What did the doctor say?”
“Huh?”
“Harry, don’t avoid me. What did the doctor say? Am I going to die?”
“We are all going to die?”
“Damn it, Harry. I love you dearly, but you can infuriate me when you try to candy-coat everything to spare my feelings. You’ve been doing it for sixty-five years, and sometimes it pisses me off. So, tell me what the doctors said.”
“You’ve got cancer deep in your brain, and there’s no hope for recovery.”
“You could’ve put a little candy-coating on it.”
“That’s what he said. It’s the plain and simple truth.”
“Well, that explains the headaches. How long do I have? How long do we have?”
“He didn’t know but not long, I guess.”
“Any treatment?”
“None.”
“Oooooh.”
“What’s the matter? More pain?”
“Feels like my head’s in a vise.”
“It’s only been two hours since I gave you the pain pills. We’ll have to wait at least two more hours.”
“Why?”
“The instructions said, ‘Only two pills every four to six hours for pain.’”
“Why?”
“They’re strong medication. They could harm you if you took too many.”
“Harm me? More than the cancer?”
“That’s what it says.”
“Harry, I’m the one that’s in pain with no hope of recovery. Isn’t that what the doctor said?”
Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. It had crossed his mind that he could easily end Ruby’s suffering, but he couldn’t do it. Now, Ruby was going where Harry couldn’t go, wasn’t ready to go.
“Let’s not talk about it.”
“Harry, you always buried your head in the sand when it came to the big decisions, and you left them up to me. Well, I’d like to talk about it, but my headache is pounding. Please give me another pill.”
Harry went to the bathroom, got the glass of pills from the medicine cabinet, and a glass of water. Harry put the glass of pills on the nightstand and took out one.
“Here Ruby, I’ll give you one more, but that’s all.”
“Harry, you’re so sweet.”
Harry lifted Ruby to a sitting position, put the pill on her tongue, pressed the glass of water to her lips, and tilted it back so she could swallow. He lowered her to the bed, fluffed the pillow around her head, and kissed her on her forehead.
Once she’s asleep, I’ll slip out and cut a couple of roses for the vase. Ruby will like that.
Ruby’s breathing became rhythmic, and Harry was sure she was asleep. He took the bud vase to the bathroom, filled the sink with water, and put it in to soak. He took a washcloth, wet it, and wrung it out. He returned to the dresser, scooped the dried pedals into the trashcan, and wiped the dust with the damp washcloth. Harry glanced at Ruby and satisfied that she was still sleeping, he went to the kitchen for a paring knife.
Harry chose a rose in full bloom and a bud that would bloom in a few days. Careful to cut the stems long enough for the vase, he hurried back inside. Ruby was still sleeping, and Harry tiptoed into the bathroom to retrieve the vase.
How did Ruby say to arrange them? Open bloom lower with bud above, or was it the other way around?
Harry dried the vase, filled it with water, and put it on the dresser.
When Ruby awakens, she’ll see them. I wish I’d done this every day for her. So little effort, but it says so much.
Harry sat down in the chair next to the bed and fell asleep.
When he awoke, Ruby was choking and gasping for air. Bile drained from the corner of her mouth. Ruby coughed, retched, and inhaled. She was drowning.
“Ruby!”
Ruby’s body convulsed. Harry scooped up her thrashing body and held her. Her heart pounded against his chest. She labored to breathe.
“Ruby, what wrong?”
Ruby’s arms were too weak for a struggle. She clasped her neck trying to get air. Her fluttering heart reverberated against Harry. Her arms fell limp at her side.
“Ruby, speak to me!”
Harry clutched Ruby tighter to his chest.
What’s happening?
In the tangled sheets, Harry saw the empty glass that held the pain pills. He glanced at the nightstand. The glass was gone.
How could I have been so stupid and put the pills within reach?
Ruby retched, again, choking, gasping for air.
“Ruby, Ruby. Why did you do it? Why?”
Harry held Ruby tight to his chest and wept. In his confusion, self-loathing, and anguish, Harry fought the urge to keep her alive for one minute more.
Why save her? Not for me, and certainly, not for her.
“Let her go,” his spirit cried out.
A final convulsion and she gasped. It was over. Ruby was quiet, peaceful.
Harry released her, laid her on the bed, kissed her bitter lips, and whispered, “I love you Ruby, I always have, and I always will. Sleep my love.”
Harry stared out the dirt-stained bedroom window and gritted his teeth. Dandelions carpeted the backyard, and the grass had gone to seed. The flowerbeds, Ruby’s pride and joy, sprouted weeds, choking the perennials that had flourished under her watchful eye. A huge maple tree blocked the life-sustaining sunlight from reaching most of the yard.
Ruby stirred in the bed next to Harry.
“Ha... Harry.”
“Yes, Ruby. What can I get you?”
“Oh, nothing. My head hurts that’s all.”
The doctor said the pain would increase toward the end. Harry never felt so helpless. Ruby’s vitality was slipping away unstoppable as the receding tide. Harry cleared his throat. “Ruby, do you remember when we planted that maple tree? It was when Jimmy was born.”
Ruby turned toward Harry’s voice and said, “Uh hm.”
“Jimmy was five when he fell off the rope swing and broke his arm. You were pregnant with Mary at the time. We planted a rose bush when she was born. Do you remember? You always loved the smell of roses.”
Dried rose pedals lay on the dresser covered in dust. They had long since turned brown, the water in the bud vase evaporated, and the stem and hip withered.
I should get a fresh rose bud from the bush. Ruby would like that.
But Harry was beyond action.
Ruby moaned and turned away.
“Jim... Jimmy. Where’s Jimmy?”
“Don’t you remember? Jimmy died in the war.”
“Ma... Mary.”
“Mary’s coming in a few days.”
Ruby groaned. “Ooooh, now it hurts so bad... like my head’s being crushed.”
“The doctor ordered some stronger medicine. I’ll get a couple of pills. They’ll help you feel better.”
Harry fumbled to open the pill container. These damn containers; who can open them?
Harry cursed and threw it against the bathroom wall. It bounced and hit the floor but remained intact. Harry stomped on it hard, too hard, and the plastic container shattered and pills scattered everywhere.
Sh*t!
Harry scooped up two pills, found a dirty glass, wiped away the grime, filled it with some tap water, and hurried back to Ruby’s side. Ceiling cobwebs danced back and forth, and dust-bunnies scurried under the bed and dresser recording Harry’s every movement.
“Take these pills, Ruby. You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t. My mouth’s so dry.”
The doctor knew Ruby has trouble swallowing, but that bast*rd ordered pills anyway.
“Ruby, take a little sip of water.”
Ruby pressed her lips to the glass and a trickle of water soothed her parched tongue and mouth. She swallowed. Another sip of water quenched her dry mouth. Harry placed the pills on her tongue and tipped the glass to her lips. Ruby choked down the pills and water. Harry lowered her head to the sweat-stained pillow and ran his fingers through Ruby’s hair, once fiery red but now matted gray. Age and disease had robbed Ruby’s beauty, but to Harry, she was as beautiful as she ever was.
Harry turned away, went into the bathroom, scooped up all the pills he could find, flicked off the dust, put them in a clean glass, and set the glass in the medicine cabinet.
What kind of painkillers are these? The doctor said ‘There’s nothing stronger I can give her.’
Harry rummaged on the floor looking for the pill container and label.
One-two tablets every 4-6 hours taken orally for pain relief. Caution: no more than 8 pills per day.
As he held the pill label in his hand, Harry wondered how much longer Ruby had to suffer, and how much more he could endure. He looked at the glass of pills.
Could I do it? Would Ruby want me to do it?
Harry poured several pills in his hand and starred at them.
They always joked about ending it all if either was faced with an incurable disease. ‘Just strap me to a motorcycle and point me toward a tree,’ Harry would say and break out in thunderous laughter. ‘Strap me behind you,’ Ruby would say.
Neither Harry nor Ruby was laughing, today.
“Harry?”
Harry put the pills in the glass and rushed to Ruby’s side.
“Yes, dear. How’s the pain?”
“Better, but I feel groggy.”
Harry pulled his chair closer to the bed and held Ruby’s hand in his.
“It’s the medication’s side effect. It takes away the pain but leaves you groggy.”
“The rose is dead.”
“What?”
“The rose in the vase is dead. I always liked fresh roses, thorns and all.”
Damn, I should have taken the time to get a fresh rose from the garden.
Harry never knew when Ruby’s lucidity would surface. He damned himself for not being prepared.
“What did the doctor say?”
“Huh?”
“Harry, don’t avoid me. What did the doctor say? Am I going to die?”
“We are all going to die?”
“Damn it, Harry. I love you dearly, but you can infuriate me when you try to candy-coat everything to spare my feelings. You’ve been doing it for sixty-five years, and sometimes it pisses me off. So, tell me what the doctors said.”
“You’ve got cancer deep in your brain, and there’s no hope for recovery.”
“You could’ve put a little candy-coating on it.”
“That’s what he said. It’s the plain and simple truth.”
“Well, that explains the headaches. How long do I have? How long do we have?”
“He didn’t know but not long, I guess.”
“Any treatment?”
“None.”
“Oooooh.”
“What’s the matter? More pain?”
“Feels like my head’s in a vise.”
“It’s only been two hours since I gave you the pain pills. We’ll have to wait at least two more hours.”
“Why?”
“The instructions said, ‘Only two pills every four to six hours for pain.’”
“Why?”
“They’re strong medication. They could harm you if you took too many.”
“Harm me? More than the cancer?”
“That’s what it says.”
“Harry, I’m the one that’s in pain with no hope of recovery. Isn’t that what the doctor said?”
Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. It had crossed his mind that he could easily end Ruby’s suffering, but he couldn’t do it. Now, Ruby was going where Harry couldn’t go, wasn’t ready to go.
“Let’s not talk about it.”
“Harry, you always buried your head in the sand when it came to the big decisions, and you left them up to me. Well, I’d like to talk about it, but my headache is pounding. Please give me another pill.”
Harry went to the bathroom, got the glass of pills from the medicine cabinet, and a glass of water. Harry put the glass of pills on the nightstand and took out one.
“Here Ruby, I’ll give you one more, but that’s all.”
“Harry, you’re so sweet.”
Harry lifted Ruby to a sitting position, put the pill on her tongue, pressed the glass of water to her lips, and tilted it back so she could swallow. He lowered her to the bed, fluffed the pillow around her head, and kissed her on her forehead.
Once she’s asleep, I’ll slip out and cut a couple of roses for the vase. Ruby will like that.
Ruby’s breathing became rhythmic, and Harry was sure she was asleep. He took the bud vase to the bathroom, filled the sink with water, and put it in to soak. He took a washcloth, wet it, and wrung it out. He returned to the dresser, scooped the dried pedals into the trashcan, and wiped the dust with the damp washcloth. Harry glanced at Ruby and satisfied that she was still sleeping, he went to the kitchen for a paring knife.
Harry chose a rose in full bloom and a bud that would bloom in a few days. Careful to cut the stems long enough for the vase, he hurried back inside. Ruby was still sleeping, and Harry tiptoed into the bathroom to retrieve the vase.
How did Ruby say to arrange them? Open bloom lower with bud above, or was it the other way around?
Harry dried the vase, filled it with water, and put it on the dresser.
When Ruby awakens, she’ll see them. I wish I’d done this every day for her. So little effort, but it says so much.
Harry sat down in the chair next to the bed and fell asleep.
When he awoke, Ruby was choking and gasping for air. Bile drained from the corner of her mouth. Ruby coughed, retched, and inhaled. She was drowning.
“Ruby!”
Ruby’s body convulsed. Harry scooped up her thrashing body and held her. Her heart pounded against his chest. She labored to breathe.
“Ruby, what wrong?”
Ruby’s arms were too weak for a struggle. She clasped her neck trying to get air. Her fluttering heart reverberated against Harry. Her arms fell limp at her side.
“Ruby, speak to me!”
Harry clutched Ruby tighter to his chest.
What’s happening?
In the tangled sheets, Harry saw the empty glass that held the pain pills. He glanced at the nightstand. The glass was gone.
How could I have been so stupid and put the pills within reach?
Ruby retched, again, choking, gasping for air.
“Ruby, Ruby. Why did you do it? Why?”
Harry held Ruby tight to his chest and wept. In his confusion, self-loathing, and anguish, Harry fought the urge to keep her alive for one minute more.
Why save her? Not for me, and certainly, not for her.
“Let her go,” his spirit cried out.
A final convulsion and she gasped. It was over. Ruby was quiet, peaceful.
Harry released her, laid her on the bed, kissed her bitter lips, and whispered, “I love you Ruby, I always have, and I always will. Sleep my love.”