by Lisa Patton
Once I’ve parked and asked for her room number, I make my way down a long hall, stopping at number twelve. The bottom portion of a nurse’s legs are visible underneath the curtain. When I pull it back and peek my head in, she motions for me to step inside. Fee’s just lying there. Even though I try to talk to her, she won’t utter a word.
After I fill the nurse in on all the details of what had happened before we got here, she takes Fee’s pressure, checks her pulse, and draws two vials of blood. She slips out quietly. Less than five minutes later the doctor walks in. Fee can hardly open her poor little eyes to tell him hello. And now she’s moaning. He takes one look at her then turns to me. “Good morning. Looks like we’ve got a sick patient.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll see what we can do to get her some relief.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I say.
He walks over to the sink and washes his hands. After drying them with a paper towel he turns back around. “Hello, Mrs. Smith. I’m Dr. Jensen. Mind if I do a little poking around?” Aunt Fee manages a slight nod, so he pulls a flashlight out of his pocket and points it into her eyes, then listens to her chest with his stethoscope. Once he’s checked her pulse, he pulls back the sheet. “I’m going to press on your abdomen now, and I’d like for you to tell me when it hurts.”
She never answers him, but she doesn’t need to. She moans most everywhere he touches.
I watch him intently, every move he makes. After unwrapping the stethoscope from around his neck and replacing it in his pocket, he turns to me. “I’m going to send Mrs. Smith downstairs for tests. Are you her next of kin?”
“No, sir. She’s my auntie. I may as well be her daughter, but she does have three sons.”
“Do they live here?”
I shake my head. “Two are in Chicago. One’s in Memphis.”
“You may want to give them a call. I’ll need someone to make decisions if need be.”
I’m frightened by his words. “What do you think is wrong?”
“It’s too early to tell. I’ll have to get CT scans to know for sure.”
“But do you have an idea?”
“It could be any number of things. But she’s in quite a bit of pain. How long has she been like this?”
“I was at her house last night. She wasn’t nearly this bad off. She was weak, but she was talking, and could get a few bites of her supper down.”
“I’ll get her started on an intravenous pain medication right away.”
“She’s been taking oxycodone. Twenty milligrams.”
“Do you know when she had the last dose?”
“No, sir. Just found out about it last night. She’s so stubborn. Never even told me she was sick.”
He smiles. “I promise to let you know something as soon as I get the tests back.” He steps toward the curtain, then turns back around. “By the way, does your aunt have a living will?”
My brows knit together. I’m not exactly sure what he means.
“A DNR. Her wishes on whether or not to resuscitate.”
Now my eyes bulge. “Of course she wants to be resuscitated.”
“Okay, just making sure.” He smiles again, opens the curtain.
“Doctor?”
He turns.
“Is it cancer?”
He squeezes his lips together. “Like I said, I’m ordering several tests. We’ll know then.”
“But, is it possible?”
He gives a slight nod. “There’s a possibility.”
*
Auntie was moved to a private room on the third floor at Northwest Regional Baptist Hospital. It was the last thing we expected for someone with no health insurance, but that’s what we got. The doctor ordered she be hooked up to a morphine drip. She’s hardly woken since, but when she does, the moaning begins. It comes up from her gut and sounds more like an animal than a human.
Now, for the first time in eleven hours, she seems to be at peace. I’m anything but peaceful. Another doctor, Dr. Thomas, brought me the news thirty minutes ago. Aunt Fee has stage four, terminal uterine cancer. The CT scan showed it was not only smothering her uterus, but it had grown over her entire abdomen—in her ovaries, stomach, intestines, and, more important, her liver. “That’s why she’s in excruciating pain,” he said. “The cancer has invaded her liver.”
When I asked him how long she had, he said it was up to God. There’s a chair in the room that folds out into a nice bed. I’ve put my name on it. Someone needs to be here, and that someone is me.
Her hand is in mine when I hear a creak in the door. I look over to see it opening real slow. There stands Mr. Marvelle. Seems like he’s afraid to come any closer. He simply stays in the doorway, peering over at Aunt Fee in the bed.
“Come on in, Marvelle,” I say.
It must take that man an entire minute to walk the five feet up to Fee’s bedside. I go around and take him by his wrinkled hand, cold to the touch. His other grips a handkerchief.
“She’d be happy to know you’re here,” I tell him.
“She went down fast. Too fast.” He lets go of my hand to put his on top of Fee’s. “I tried getting her to see a doctor. She never would listen.”
“That’s her,” I say. “You know that. Nothing any of us could have done to persuade her.”
“Just hate it had to end this way.” Marvelle wipes his nose, then stuffs his hanky back down in his pocket.
“Why didn’t she tell me she was this sick?” Tears creep back into my eyes.
That sweet man reaches into his pocket, takes out a clean handkerchief, and does his best to wipe them away. “I imagine when she found out there was nothing she could do. If I know Miss O she didn’t wanna worry you.”
“She’s the most stubborn woman alive.” I look down at her. Bright red lipstick on her lips. Lying there as sweet as a sleeping baby. “I could just strangle her. I mean it, too.”
Marvelle laughs. “She looks peaceful, Pearl. Pretty, too. You’ve got her all made up. She’d be happy about that.”
An hour later, around nine o’clock, the door opens again and Mama Carla and Selma James peek their sweet heads inside. I don’t have but a teaspoon of energy left, but I still find the strength to get up and take them in my arms. Once I’m able to let go they tiptoe over to the bed, look at Aunt Fee lying there, unresponsive.
Selma bursts into tears. “Half of our sorority is downstairs.” I’m not sure if she’s talking to Aunt Fee or to me. I pass her the box of tissues. She takes one, wipes her eyes. “We’ve taken over the entire lobby, Miss Ophelia. I’m not sure how happy the hospital is about it, but we’re all here for you.”
“Helen and Latonya are, too,” Mama Carla says from the other side of Fee’s bed. “So is Kadeesha.” Then she smiles because she knows Kadeesha and I are not the best of friends.
“Doesn’t that make you feel good, Aunt Fee?” I say, winking at Mama Carla. But Fee never opens her eyes. The morphine has her out cold.
Selma takes her by the hand. “We love you, Miss Ophelia.”
Watching the three of them at Aunt Fee’s bedside strikes a familial chord. These folks are my family. Fee would feel the same way if she were coherent. It would thrill her to know the Alpha Delts had taken over the lobby. Selma looks over at me. “We won’t stay. We just wanted you to know we’re downstairs in case you need us.”
“I guess I’ll go on, too,” Mr. Marvelle says, standing up from the chair. “You need sleep, Pearl. You’ve had a long, long day.”
As much as I’d like to have them in the room with me, I know he’s right. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without all a y’all. I’m already out of my mind as it is.”
“Pearl,” Mama Carla says. “You listen to me. I want you to take all the time off you need. Kadeesha is covering your housekeeping shift, and everyone else is taking up the slack in the kitchen. I canceled dinner tonight and I’ll do it again if need be.”
“Thank you, Mama Carla. You’re mighty good t
o me.”
She reaches over and runs the back of her hand across Fee’s cheek. “You sure look pretty, Miss Ophelia. Your Pearl has you made up nice. Your makeup looks beautiful.”
“Doesn’t she look good?” I ask.
“She looks gorgeous,” Mama Carla manages to say, but now she can hardly talk.
I had run out to Walmart earlier and bought Fee two new pretty nightgowns—one blue, one yellow. The nurse helped me dress her in the blue one, in honor of Alpha Delt. Then I combed her hair back off her forehead, the way she likes it styled, and painted her nails. I made sure to color her lips with her favorite red lipstick. Unless you knew she was in her mid-sixties you’d think she was my age. Not a single line on her face.
When Mama was dying, Aunt Fee told me something I’ve never forgotten. “When peoples are getting ready to meet their Maker, they need to look their utmost best.”
FIFTY-ONE
CALI
When Selma James told us in our first Monday night Chapter that Miss Ophelia had stage-four uterine cancer and wasn’t expected to live much longer, many of the active members in the room cried. Some even wailed. There were even a few girls in our pledge class who got teary. It feels like a dark cloud decided to settle over the Alpha Delt house the day we pledged, and in a strange and somber way I feel bonded to my Alpha Delt sisters because of it.
Selma adjourned the meeting early and lots of us drove over to the hospital. Since the meeting was open, we were all casually dressed in Alpha Delt jerseys and T-shirts, so it looked like a blue and white river had flooded the lobby. Selma wouldn’t let anyone go up to the room. I get that. It would have been too hard on Miss Ophelia and Miss Pearl both. Besides, the hospital wouldn’t have allowed it. Lots of the girls were pissed though, as they felt strongly about wanting to see her one last time.
Now, another week has passed and Miss Ophelia’s still hanging on. I feel terrible for Miss Pearl. Sarah told me she’s not only unmarried and without kids of her own, but that Miss Ophelia is more like a mother to her than an aunt. I remember her making that exact statement on Bid Day. For some reason I have a feeling Miss Pearl’s not only super sad about the thought of losing her, but she feels lonely. Most of the girls know her so much better than I do, but I felt a connection with her on Bid Day. She was kind and gracious to both my grandparents and me, and, well, I just want to give her a squeeze.
I know she’s in her closet right now because I saw her go in there when I was on my way to the study lounge, not two minutes ago. After gathering my courage, I steal down the hall, and up to the door. Knocking softly I call, “Miss Pearl? Are you in there?”
It takes her a second, but she opens the door, though only a hair. We’re eye to eye and I’m afraid I’ve bothered her when she says, “Hello, Cali.” Then she smiles and opens the door wider.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No, baby, you aren’t disturbing me.”
“I thought you’d be at the hospital with Miss Ophelia.”
“My cousin is with her. He ran me out of there. Said I needed a break.” She laughs even though I’m sure she’s sad.
“I won’t keep you; I just wanted you to know everyone in our pledge class is thinking about you and we’re all saying prayers.”
She tilts her head back with a chuckle. “We could use every one of them, too.”
As rotten as she must feel, she still has a good sense of humor. “I have something for you.” I dig inside my pocket and remove the small cool rock. “It’s nothing big. I just thought it might help you.” I open my palm. “My grandfather gave this to me when I was little.”
With inquisitive eyes, she takes the stone from my hand. “Why, thank you, baby.” She peers at the lettering on top, then stretches out her arm. “I can hardly read anything these days.”
“It’s says: The Lord Is My Rock.”
Running her thumb across the top, she says, “He certainly is.”
“I rub on it when I’m stressed or feeling down. I thought it might be a comfort to you.”
“I know it will.” She slips it inside her pocket.
“Are you doing okay?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want to make her cry, but I do want her to know I’m concerned.
“Not really, but this is life.” There’s a faraway look in her eyes. She’s fatigued. I know I would be.
“Life can suck sometimes,” I say with a slight chuckle.
“We were never promised an easy ride. That I know.”
“You sound like my grandfather.”
“My mama told me that a long time ago.” Her smile fades, then she shuts her eyes. “I sure wish she was here with us now.”
“When did she die?”
“Let me see now.” She uses her fingers to calculate the time. “She passed fifteen years ago the seventeenth of August.” Biting down on her lip she adds, “Aunt Fee took her place. It’s hard to lose a mother all over again.”
Melancholy tugs at me now, for some surprising reason. I look down at the floor.
“Cali? Did I say something wrong?” She gently lifts my chin with two fingers.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” I stop short of spilling the details.
“What is it, baby?”
“Nothing. I didn’t come here to talk about me. I only wanted to give you my prayer stone, and tell you we’re all praying.” I take a step back. “I’m sure you’ve got lots to do.”
She steps forward, then stretches her arm across my back. “Why don’t you step inside my office?”
“Oh no, I’m … with all you have going on, I’m…”
Guiding me inside, she motions for me to sit. There’s not much room, but there are two stools. “Have a seat, baby.” After taking the other chair, she pulls the door shut. Then she turns to face me with her hands on her knees. “Girls come in here to talk about all kinds of things. If there’s something bothering you, go on and say it.” Her face lights with compassion and she chuckles softly.
Miss Pearl is even nicer than I thought. I get the feeling she’s a safe harbor, so I decide to test the waters. “When you said it’s hard to lose a mother it hit home, that’s all.” Out of habit I reach up for my cross, zip it nervously on the chain.
“Did you lose your mother?”
“Yes, ma’am, but not by death.” Okay, so I’ve admitted it to someone on campus. Now what?
“How did you lose her, baby?” Miss Pearl’s voice overflows with tenderness.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then dive straight in. “She left me. When I was five. I haven’t told any of my friends here about it. I’m not sure they could relate. They don’t seem to have problems.”
When she laughs out loud I’m a little confused. But then she says, “Might not seem like it, but there are all kinds of problems in this House. I don’t mean to laugh. I just know what I’m talking about.”
I smile, zip my cross again. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m right. You can trust me on that. Do you remember your mama?”
“Oh yeah. She still comes in and out of my life. She lives in ‘Sunny California’ now.” I sit up straight and mimic the way she says it. “The last time I saw her was about”—I look off, trying to calculate the timeline—“two years ago when she showed up at our house with her drug-dealer boyfriend. They wanted money. But my grandmother told her no. It was hard on my grandfather because he misses her so much. He wanted her to stay, but my grandmother is strong. She wouldn’t let her.” My honesty surprises me. But it’s easy to be truthful with Miss Pearl.
“That’s hard on you, I know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a sigh. “It was bad. I could tell she was using when I saw her grinding her teeth. Well, what teeth she has left. She got addicted to drugs about twelve years ago. Meth is a problem near my hometown.” When Miss Pearl grimaces I’m afraid I’ve overshared. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to give you all the gory details. Especially with all you’re going through.�
� I bury my face in my hands.
“Cali,” she says, gently removing my hands. “Didn’t Sarah tell you I’m the in-house therapist? Nothing shocks me, baby.”
“Yes, but I’m so embarrassed by her.” The mere thought of my mother is revolting. “I just wish I could be a normal girl in a normal family.”
“What’s normal? You think these girls here are all normal?”
I shrug.
“Shoot.”
Now she’s made me laugh.
“Tell me about your daddy. Is he in the picture?”
As tight as it is in here I can lean back against the shelves, so I do. “I have no idea who the man is.” It actually feels good to let that one out. And to support my back.
“That’s okay. I only met mine a few times.”
“Really?”
Miss Pearl nods her head tenderly.
It comforts me enough to tell her more. “To be perfectly honest with you, I wish my mother had given me up for adoption. Then I wouldn’t have to know the bitter truth about her or my father.”
A harsh look, erupting out of nowhere, replaces the tender face that only moments earlier had been kind and consoling. It’s not mean, necessarily, just strong. And it takes me by surprise, because until now Miss Pearl has been so gentle. “Don’t say that, baby,” she says, in a commanding voice.
I drop my head. She can tell I’m hurt because she says, in a gentler tone, “Think about it from the other side. Suppose you had grown up never knowing who your mama is? Wouldn’t you feel worse? Wouldn’t there be a sinkhole in your heart you couldn’t close no matter how hard you tried?”
“I haven’t thought about it that way,” I say, my heart still stinging. “I see your point. But…” My voice rises. “At least I wouldn’t have to know the truth. My own mother doesn’t give two shits about me.” I touch her on the leg. “Sorry for the swear.”
“Come here, baby.” Miss Pearl pulls me into her chest. “That’s not true. Even though your mama’s on the wrong track right now, it doesn’t mean she don’t love you. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about. You’re always in her heart.”
