This entry is a true story documenting one of the last days of my lovely sister-in law, Dorinda.
Stormy
Night
“I’ve got her all set. She’s had her meds,
so she should be comfortable. Try to get her to eat something and make sure she
keeps drinking water.” The hospice nurse gave last minute instructions. “Watch
her oxygen tubes. She should be fine until morning.”
The house was quiet except for the droning
of the AC unit pumping cool air and keeping the hot, Louisiana summer night at
bay. In the master bedroom, the soft hum of the electric oxygen generator
lulled all into a false sense of security.
Roy escorted the nurse to her car and
hurried back to his charge. The frail figure in the hospital bed barely
resembled his beautiful wife of over 40 years. Cancer had ravaged her body for almost
a decade. She had her lung removed and endured chemo and radiation. She’d
fought and won at one point, going into remission for over 6 months. It seemed
a cruel joke. Just as Dori regained her strength and resumed her life, the
cancer returned with a vengeance. Now she struggled for every breath. Tumors
ravaged her body, crowding her single lung, liver, and abdomen.
“What can I do for you?” Roy’s sister San
asked, standing by the bed.
“My skin is so dry it hurts. Can you find
some lotion that’s unscented? I can’t stand the smell.” Dori croaked from under
the covers.
“I have some unscented face lotion for
sensitive skin,” San spoke up. Let’s see if you can tolerate this.” San held
the open bottle under Dori’s nose.
“Yeah, that’s okay,” Dori mumbled.
San lifted the light blanket to reveal
Dori’s emaciated legs. Carefully, so as not to disturb the life-giving oxygen
tube, she rubbed liberal amounts of lotion into Dori’s dry skin. It absorbed
the lotion like a sponge. “The nurse said you need to eat. What would you like?
I’ll make you anything you want.” San spoke softly as she massaged Dori’s bony
feet.
“I don’t think I can eat.”
“I’m here to make whatever you want. Isn’t
there something, anything you think you could hold down?”
“Ok. How about some dry toast. No butter.”
“Dry toast it is.” San scurried to the
kitchen while Roy propped Dori up on a mountain of pillows. A rumble of thunder
announced the approach of a summer storm.
San quickly returned bearing a paper plate
with two pieces of dry toast. Dori smirked. “You didn’t cut the crust off.”
“I didn’t know you wanted it all fancy.”
San’s comment dripped with sarcasm.
Dori grinned, looking like her old self
for a moment. “You should know I like everything fancy.”
It was an accurate statement. Dori had
always been well-put-together; her flaming red hair coiffed, nails manicured,
make up perfect. Her long, delicate fingers were typically adorned with
sparkling rings. Roy enjoyed buying jewelry and Dori loved wearing it. Rings,
gold chains, bracelets, pendants of precious and semi-precious stones, and
earrings in all shapes and colors occupied her large jewelry armoire. Presently,
Dori’s only adornment consisted of a paper hospital band around her thin wrist.
A flash from outside drew their attention.
“Wow. The storm’s getting closer.” Dori reacted to the lightning. The following
clap of thunder sounded louder than before.
“What are you girls gabbing about?” Roy
entered with Dori’s water mug. “All filled up.” He smiled and took his wife’s
gaunt hand. “Think I could grab a shower while you two talk?”
Dori waved him off. “Go ahead. We need to
catch up anyway.”
San nodded to her brother. “We’re good.
I’ll holler if I need anything. Take a shower.”
San watched as Dori struggled to draw the liquid
up the straw. “Having a little trouble?” She reached over to loosen the top of
the mug. “Try that.”
“That’s much easier. Thanks.” Dori
whispered.
“I heard that your brother Bob came for a
visit today.” San propped herself up on the bed next to Dori’s hospital bed.
Dori frowned. “It was awful. He just sat
by the bed trying not to cry. I felt like I had to carry the conversation and I
just don’t have the energy. He’s depressing.” She chuckled, in spite of the
graveness of the situation. “Talk to me San. Tell me about the book you’re
working on.”
Often berated for her gift of gab, San
launched into an animated description of the fantasy novel she was writing.
Dori commented from time to time as she nibbled on her toast, even laughing at
San’s antics. After a few minutes, a shirtless Roy appeared in the doorway.
“It’s nice to hear her laugh.” He commented
to his sister while pulling on a t-shirt. Lightning cracked outside,
immediately followed with a boom of thunder that shook the house. “The storm is
getting worse. Let’s hope it blows over.”
Dori yawned widely. San rescued the water
mug as her head sagged. “Let’s let her get some sleep.” She motioned to her
brother.
They tip-toed to the living room. “She
probably won’t sleep long.” Roy collapsed into his recliner. “You might want to
get some rest while you can.”
“Oh, you know me. I can stay up all
night.” San clicked on the television. The blue screen indicated a lost
satellite signal. “The storm,” she sighed. Rain pelted the windows. Flashes of lightning
lit up the night. The old house trembled with the resonating thunder. The
lights blinked. San looked to Roy with raised eyebrows.
“I’d better find a flashlight, just in
case…” Roy’s shoulders slumped when the house went dark. “Shit.” He sprang from
his chair. “I’ve got one right over here.” He fumbled in the dark for a moment,
finally coming up with a flashlight. “There’s another one in the kitchen.”
San edged her way to the kitchen in the
darkness. Roy followed with the light. They rummaged through the junk drawer to
find a second flashlight.
“Roy.” Dori’s feeble call was barely
audible over the din of the storm.
Racing to the bedroom, they found Dori
gasping for breath. “Dammit. The oxygen.” Roy rushed to Dori’s side.
“Up,” she gasped. “Can’t breathe.”
He punched the button on the hospital bed.
“Dammit. There’s a manual crank under here somewhere.” San reached out to pull
Dori forward as Roy stacked pillows behind her. While he searched for the
crank, San found a small battery-operated fan. She placed it on the rolling
table to blow directly into Dori’s face.
“Better.” Dori croaked. “This hurts.”
“I can’t see shit.” Roy’s fear and
irritation was showing.
“I’ve got a camp lantern in my Jeep. I’ll
go get it.” San started for the door. “You okay for a minute?”
“Yeah. I gotta have some light.” Roy
nodded.
San burst out the front door into the
storm. Two steps off the porch, she was soaked. She ran to her vehicle,
retrieving the lantern. In less than ninety seconds she was back, dripping on
the carpet. The lantern lit up the room, but Dori was clearly in pain.
Roy held Dori up. With San’s help, he
found the crank to adjust the bed but it did little to alleviate Dori’s
distress. Lying back, Dori couldn’t get enough oxygen for a breath. Pulled or
propped forward, she could catch a breath, but leaning forward compacted the
tumors amassed in her body. She was in a lot of pain. To make matters worse,
Dori began vomiting.
San held Dori in her arms, pulling her
forward to get a breath, wiping her face with a cool washcloth. Dori could only
remain in that position for about thirty seconds. She took a couple of breaths,
then nodded for San to lower her back down. After about a minute in recline,
San had to lift Dori again to get another breath. They soon found a rhythm.
Thirty seconds up, then down. While Dori reclined, San cleaned the dark stains
from her shirt front. The humidity and temperature began to rise rapidly.
While San tended to Dori, Roy was on the
phone with the hospice nurse. She was an hour away, in fair weather. The
massive storm would triple that. He fumed and fussed but was ultimately
appreciative that she was coming back.
Dori’s vomiting spell only lasted a short
while. She didn’t have much in her stomach, after all. Roy took over for his
sister. Lift forward for thirty seconds, lower for one minute, lift for thirty
seconds, lower for one minute. San fanned furiously with her notebook to stir
the air. In a few minutes, she was drenched with sweat, adding to the damp from
her dash into the storm. Perspiration dripped off the tip of Roy’s nose as he
lifted and lowered his ailing wife.
The temperature in the house rose to a
sweltering, sticky ninety degrees. Lift forward for thirty seconds, lower for
one minute, lift for thirty seconds, lower for one minute. For ninety minutes
Roy and San took turns helping Dori breathe. Lift for thirty seconds, lower for
one minute.
The storm lashed the old house with wind
and driving rain for what seemed an eternity. Eventually, the rain ceased and
the rumbles of thunder rolled into the distance. There was little conversation
as Roy and San continued; lift for thirty seconds, lower for one minute, lift
for thirty seconds, lower for one minute.
Finally, the lights blinked on as the
power was restored. The hum of the AC was a welcome sound but the soft drone of
the oxygen generator was a gift from God. Roy placed the cannula back on Dori’s
face. She visibly relaxed as she received the oxygen. With San’s assistance, he
changed Dori’s soiled shirt. They turned on three fans to stir the air and cool
Dori’s room as quickly as possible. When the hospice nurse arrived, a full
three hours after Roy called, San hugged her.
The nurse administered nausea and pain
meds to make Dori comfortable. Once Dori was settled, she eased into the living
room to get a full accounting from Roy and his sister. The nurse found them
both asleep, San on the sofa and Roy in his recliner. Exhaustion had overtaken
them.
