Coming Undone Page 4

  “Ben,” Dr. Vitter said, shaking his hand.

  “Dr. Vitter.” There wasn’t a thing Ben liked about this. Dr. Vitter looked far too concerned, far too serious.

  They sat simultaneously, and Ben fought not to squirm right out of his chair.

  “We got the MRI’s back this morning, and unfortunately, there has been more bleeding overnight.”

  “Um-hm.” More bleeding. That did not sound good. “But you can fix that, right? I mean, you can… with the surgery.”

  Dr. Vitter’s gaze slipped to the desk. “Even with surgery, your father’s chances of ever coming out of this are very, very slim.”

  “But…” Air, words, hope—they all escaped. “But there is… I mean, there is still a chance. Something. Some drug or something.”

  Although he never actually shook his head, Dr. Vitter’s whole demeanor said, No, there isn’t. “I’m sorry, Ben. Really, I am. If there was any way I thought we’d have a chance, I would give it to you. But he’s too far gone. There’s too much damage, and to keep him ‘alive’ like this…” He put quotes around that word, raking right over Ben’s heart with the gesture. “Your father wouldn’t want this.”

  “I…” He cleared his throat because suddenly he wanted to cry more than he ever had. He blinked the tears back. “Okay.” Reaching up, he scratched at his shoulder which suddenly felt like it was crawling with something. “Um. Then what…” The lump grew in his throat so that he had to clear it again. “What do we do now?”

  We. Such a strange word. There was no we. Only I and me. He’d loved those words for so long. Suddenly they felt very, very lonely.

  “Well, I think it’s time to consider the possibility of hospice.”

  “Hospice. Hm.” Why could he not get more than a word out without choking up? “What’s that?”

  “Hospice,” Dr. Vitter explained as the world did that tilt away from Ben thing again. Why could he not concentrate when the doctor was spelling out the options? Why did it seem that the doctor’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out? “It really is not as ghoulish as it sounds. It gives the patient a place to die in peace without heroic methods being used to prolong a life that is fading.”

  “Hm. I’m sorry. And where is this… this hospice place?” Ben could think of no place bad enough for this to be. The deep recesses of hell came to mind.

  “On the northwest side of the building. It’s a smaller building although it is connected to the hospital.”

  Ben nodded, not at all sure that those words even made sense. “And he would be moved there?”

  “Yes. Once you sign the papers, we would do the transfer.”

  “Uh-huh.” There was no catching any thought in his head. He stood and stepped over to the window, not wanting to be in this room anymore, having this discussion. He looked out at the traffic longingly. “And what if I don’t sign the papers?”

  “Well.” Only now did Dr. Vitter hesitate. “We would continue to keep your father on the life support systems as long as they worked, but you have to understand, he will almost assuredly not come out of this comatose state.”

  “Yeah, but if I do this, if I sign those papers, then that’ll be it. He will definitely die?”

  There was a slight moment of hesitation. “Yes.” The doctor’s tone was grave. “He will.”

  Ben wanted to run more at that moment than he ever had before. Looking out into the parking lot far below, he put his hand on the back of his neck, feeling knots he didn’t remember ever being there. They were giving him a terrible headache. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can do that… sign those papers I mean… I mean, how… how can I do something like that? How can I make that kind of decision? I don’t think I could ever do that.”

  “No, seriously, Kate,” Misty said on Monday afternoon as they stood at the nurse’s station in St. Anthony’s Hospice. “I get it. There was a good-looking guy at church, and he’s probably wonderful and perfect for you. But you didn’t even talk to him. You don’t even know if he’s single. I mean, that’s great, and maybe it will work out, but in case he… I don’t know… shows up with a girlfriend next weekend or something, why don’t you just go out with Nathan and give him a chance too? He really is a nice guy, and I’ve actually talked with him.”

  Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can’t I just find a guy, fall in love, have a couple babies, and live happily ever after like everybody else does?”

  “Uh, because nobody does that?”

  “Yes they do. Look at you and Casey. You’re both married with kids and the whole thing.”

  “Yes, but it’s not a bed of roses for us either. I can’t tell you how frustrated I get when I’m thinking new bedroom furniture and Zac comes home with a new power mower. Ugh. I’d like to shoot him, and sometimes I think I would if I didn’t love him so much.”

  “But that’s what I mean. That’s what I want. I want to be so frustrated with him that I want to shoot him but know I never would. I want that, and I’m so tired of waiting and thinking maybe it’s never going to happen for me.”

  “So, then why are you afraid to go out with a guy that might make it happen?”

  Kathryn’s shoulders slumped forward. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just afraid of being disappointed again.”

  “Uh-huh. So you’re going to refuse to even try even though you keep telling me you want that more than anything.”

  The phone next to Misty beeped, and she picked it up. Kathryn knew to politely find something else to listen to. She was good at doing that. Her own thoughts seemed as good a place as any to disappear. Misty was probably right. What was she doing pining away for some guy two rows up that she had never met when another perfectly nice guy might be waiting for her if she just said yes?

  “Yeah, she’s right here.” Misty put her hand over the phone. “Dr. Vitter for you.”

  Snapping back into work mode, Kathryn stood. “I’ll take it in my office.” She strode down the hall, knowing what was waiting on the other side of the phone call. Another patient. Without really thinking and because it was always her first line of defense, she whispered in her heart, “Lord, please be with this person and their family as they begin their transition to You.”

  In her office she sat down, wiped her eyes as if Dr. Vitter could see her pathetic state, picked up the phone, and pushed the blinking button. “This is Kathryn.”

  “Kathryn, oh, good.” He sounded genuinely relieved, and she knew this was more than a routine call. “Listen, I’ve got some rather bad news, and I’m afraid I’m going to need some help with this one.”

  “Okay. What’s up?” Her prayers kicked into a higher gear.

  “Well, I’m sure you remember Dr. Warren with the oversight office.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he was admitted on Friday night, and I’m afraid I just got the MRI’s back. It does not look good.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” On her desk, she wrote, Dr. Warren. MRI. “Is this a stroke or a car accident or what?” Not that it really mattered, but it was always nice to have the information going into any meeting with the family.

  “A massive stroke. The family’s really struggling with the hospice decision. I think it’s a matter of not understanding the program. I was wondering if you could come talk with them just to maybe put their mind at ease, you know?”

  “Yes. All right. Are they there right now?”

  “I can let them know you’re on your way.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Thanks, Kathryn.”

  She almost said her good-byes.

  “And Kathryn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Go easy, okay? This is really a tough one.”

  Nodding, she steadied her heart. They were all tough. “I will.” She hung up, stood, and left the rest of her work behind. As many of these meetings as she had had over the course of her career, they never got any easier, and she never wanted them to. It w
as too important that she not become hardened to the difficulty of the transition of death. No matter how many times she went through it, she had to remember that the family had not had nearly so much practice. Most had had none at all.

  She boarded the elevator and let her gaze slide up to the numbers above. “Dear Lord, please be with the Warrens. Give them Your love. Help me to help them through this difficult time. Give me the right words, God. Please, do this through me…”

  Never had Ben ever wanted to feel like this again—like his world was shattering and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He remembered this pain with crystal-clear clarity. In fact, it was still so fresh, he wondered if he had ever truly forgotten it. Tears came to his eyes, but he beat them back. He couldn’t start crying now. If he did, he might never stop.

  Hunched over his knees in the waiting room, he pushed his mind to topics that he might be able to deal with. Things like how things were at work and if Simon had called the Naxel Company yet to explain the situation. Explain the situation. Ha. That was a joke. Ben wanted to scream, “How did this happen?” And inside he was screaming that and so much more. How he was managing to keep it all on the inside, he had no clue because it felt like it might burst from him at any moment.

  “Ben?” Dr. Vitter suddenly appeared right in front of him, and Ben snapped to attention, yanking himself out of the chair. He shook the doctor’s hand without really understanding where reality had gone. “Ben, this is Kathryn Walker. She’s the social worker in our hospice program.”

  “Mr. Warren.” Ms. Walker stepped forward and shook his hand although the world was tilting into that not making any sense realm again.

  “Ms. Uh Walker.” He nodded, tried to smile, knew it didn’t get that far, and hoped he wouldn’t completely break down right there in front of everybody.

  “Um, we could go into my office,” Dr. Vitter said, and Ben nodded again, wanting no part of making that walk.

  “Okay.”

  Ragged. That was a good word to describe Dr. Warren’s “family.” It wasn’t a family. Just one guy, and Kathryn wished she had thought to ask a few more questions. As they walked down the hall, Dr. Vitter in front, her in the middle, and the guy behind her, she sank into prayer because that was all she could think to do. God had better show up for this one because she was definitely out of her league. He looked just barely this side of death himself.

  In the office, Dr. Vitter motioned toward the little couch on the far wall, and Kathryn accepted his invitation. When she was seated, she watched Mr. Warren sit on the other side, gaze down, looking like he might fall off the earth if someone didn’t hold onto him. She smiled softly, hoping her compassion was evident and not condescending. It was then that she realized Dr. Vitter was not planning to stay.

  “Take as long as you need,” he said, and with that, he turned and hustled out, closing the door behind him.

  Oh, help, God! her heart screamed into the abyss where she was now staring. She looked over at the guy who looked positively ripped to pieces. Where to start and how? Words failed her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your first name.”

  When he looked up, his blue-green eyes were filled with a pleading for her to do something, anything someone hadn’t already thought of. “Uh, Ben. Ben Warren.”

  She nodded, wishing she could do or say something to take away the immense pain in his distraught eyes. “Mr. Warren…”

  “Please, call me Ben,” he said with the saddest of smiles.

  “Ben,” she said softly, “I’m sorry about what’s happened.” The words stopped because compassion choked the rest from her chest. She had learned not to force herself to keep talking in such situations. Time was a stabilizer that rushing simply couldn’t match. “Dr. Vitter said you’re considering hospice care for your father.”

  Ben’s dark eyebrows arched in slight sarcasm. “I guess.” He exhaled and put his elbows on his knees and his hands to his mouth. “I don’t really know what I’m doing to be honest with you. All of this… stuff is totally new to me. I don’t know what’s best. I don’t even know what’s worst at this point.”

  She watched him, her emotional radar searching for any and all signals that would guide her words. “I take it you will be the one to make the decision.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed a hollow laugh. “Lucky me, huh?”

  Kathryn didn’t push it. He was working this out in his head and his heart, and she had to let him in his way, in his time.

  When he looked at her, there were a myriad of questions in his eyes. “Um, can I ask you some things? I mean, they didn’t really tell me much about your… program.”

  “Certainly. Ask whatever you want.”

  Ben swallowed hard and let his gaze fall to the floor at his feet. It was brown. That registered. He was glad something did. Words were becoming harder and harder to come by and harder to say without breaking down completely. “Um, well, I take it from what Dr. Vitter said that once Dad is transferred… there, that’s pretty much it. Right? I mean he won’t get any care after that.”

  “If you mean do we put him in a dark room and wait for the end, no that’s not what we do.” Her voice was soft and very kind. “We feel we’re a place that can provide the needed transition time for your father and for the family. Hospitals are wonderful for those who are going to survive, but they are not great places to die.”

  Die. Man, he hated that word, but he nodded anyway even though his gaze was still firmly on the floor.

  “The staff and machines and keeping the family at bay are just not conducive to giving everyone the time they need to say good-bye,” Ms. Walker continued. “We don’t make you say good-bye on a schedule. The schedule is whatever you set. You come when you want, stay as long as you like, leave when you’re ready. It’s totally up to you.”

  Something akin to hope brushed his heart, and he picked up his gaze. “No five minute visits every two hours starting at eight and ending at eight?”

  She smiled clearly getting the reference. “No, you do what works for you. We have round the clock staff who specialize in end-of-life issues. We can help you through not just your father’s transition, but we can point you to services that can smooth life out as you go forward as well.”

  His shoulders relaxed as he let out a slow, choppy breath. As he looked at her, the need to tell someone how overwhelmed he was overtook him. He looked down quickly trying to squelch it. However, even after several long seconds, he couldn’t. “I’m… Uh, I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I feel like I’m in the dark with no idea which way to even go.”

  “You’re not alone. Most people feel like that,” she said like the touch of an angel’s wings. “Believe me, no one feels equal to this one. What you have to understand is that you’re not being judged. You get through it in the best way you can. You just have to learn to be really gentle with yourself. That helps.”

  He laughed that hollow laugh again.

  She joined him. “Well, it’s pretty much a learned skill. We’re all so programmed to think we have to know what to do and what to say that when we don’t, we feel like utter failures. I know. I’ve been there.” Her eyes were soft as was her smile. “But this is not some kind of competition. It’s not a pass or fail test. It’s doing your best and giving yourself the space to do it the way that makes the most sense for you.”

  “So you think I should sign the papers.”

  “That’s not my decision. I haven’t seen the medical reports. What I want you to know is that our facility is not some draconian echo chamber. We really do care, and we want to help when you’re ready.”

  A moment more and Ben nodded. At least he’d stopped looking only at the floor. That was something. And he was calm—at least on the outside. She had seen families screaming and yelling at one another in these situations. This was definitely better although she could tell he was struggling mightily to get through this minute to the next.

  He stood from the little sofa and offered h
er his hand. “Ms. Walker, thank you very much.”

  She shook his hand. “You’re welcome. And for the record, it’s Kathryn.”

  “Kathryn.” There was almost a smile there. “That was my grandmother’s name.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head in surprise. “Most people call me Kate, but I really prefer Kathryn. I don’t know why. It sounds more old-style Hollywood or something.” With a saucy smile, she tossed her blonde locks over her shoulder as if she was anywhere near as glamorous as those ladies. “Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?”

  This laugh made it all the way up to his eyes. They were nice eyes, kind of a hazy bluish-green. “That she can. That she can.”

  After a moment the laughter fell away from her. “But really, if you need anything, here’s my card.” She slipped it from her pocket and handed it to him. “Just call anytime. Of course, I’m not the only one on staff, so if I’m not there, Clyde or Yvonne will be able to help also.”

  He took the card and looked at it for a long, long moment. When he looked up again, there was genuine gratefulness in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Her only wish was that she could do more. “You’re welcome.”

  After she left, Ben went down to the cafeteria, got some coffee, and found a little corner to disappear into. It was only three in the afternoon, but it felt like midnight-thirty. He took a sip of the coffee and set the cup on the table. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out her card. Kathryn Walker, St. Anthony’s Hospice, Social Worker.

  Who signed up for a job like that? He would run for the hills. Slowly he turned the card over and over in his fingers. What to do? She didn’t make it sound as horrible as he had envisioned, and yet a good salesman could sell anything. True, she didn’t seem like a pushy salesperson. But it was her job to make her facility seem as user-friendly as possible. He thought it through again and took another drink.