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We were sitting on her bed, the one I remember from when I was little, talking about when she was a nuclear chemist. She was working on a degree in physical chemistry and she had a job designing rocket guidance systems. She was explaining the ethics of science to me—the bomb, Agent Orange, Hussein’s chemical warfare—and how science does wonderful things, but also destroys things. It’s why we have to research things before we use them. It’s why I had to take that stupid Crown Core course. She was saying all this in a sort of wheezy voice, coughing every few moments, pausing between every two or three words to catch her breath. Have you ever seen Malcolm in the Middle? You know the kid in the wheelchair, who says things like, “Thanks a… …lot,” with the big pause in the middle to breathe? It was like that, and I felt like maybe she’d been right the other night when she said God makes us deal with the things we hate most. She says when she was little she always hated how old people would cough and cough and make such horrific noises, and now she’s doing it. And it drives me nuts when it takes ten minutes for someone to finish a sentence, but I love her and so I’m patient.
And the thing that got me the most was when she stopped in the middle of a paragraph (though at the end of a sentence) and said, “I need to rest a few minutes. Go away.” I don’t think it was in so many words, but that’s what it was, and while I’d realized she needed to lie down, I hadn’t thought… I don’t know what I hadn’t thought. I guess I was shocked. She’s been so strong the whole time I’ve been down here, she doesn’t want help or sympathy really, she just wants to get better, and I hadn’t expected her to have a need to kick me out. Maybe I thought she would muster enough energy to talk the subject out… I don’t know.
But I left. I went off to play computer games in the living room on my laptop. Vacation is so lovely…. An hour or two passed. It’s 9:30 pm and my grandfather comes out and says, “Nanny’s not feeling any better. She wants me to take her to the emergency room.” Stunned, I ask, “Now?” And he says yes. While she had informed me earlier that she might ask to go to the emergency room if the coughing didn’t stop (it’s gone on way too long, and it’s not the cancer, it’s a secondary infection caused by some medication or something she took a few months ago, and she somehow contracted bronchitis), I hadn’t realized she meant tonight. She told me not to be scared, that they could treat her in the ER and that’s the only reason they might go there, and I smiled and said, of course I won’t be scared, that’s silly. But when Poopah came in and told me they were going…. My heart went kerplump, and the same feeling I get right before a test crept into my stomach and my head swirled around.
She’s going to be fine, I’m sure. She just wants them to do something about the coughing, I think. And the fever. But, while she IS dying (we’re all dying, if you want to be existentialist about it), she’s not dying tonight. They told me to go to bed; they’ll be there most of the night most likely. I shouldn’t worry.
Yeah right, I won’t worry.
And the thing that got me the most was when she stopped in the middle of a paragraph (though at the end of a sentence) and said, “I need to rest a few minutes. Go away.” I don’t think it was in so many words, but that’s what it was, and while I’d realized she needed to lie down, I hadn’t thought… I don’t know what I hadn’t thought. I guess I was shocked. She’s been so strong the whole time I’ve been down here, she doesn’t want help or sympathy really, she just wants to get better, and I hadn’t expected her to have a need to kick me out. Maybe I thought she would muster enough energy to talk the subject out… I don’t know.
But I left. I went off to play computer games in the living room on my laptop. Vacation is so lovely…. An hour or two passed. It’s 9:30 pm and my grandfather comes out and says, “Nanny’s not feeling any better. She wants me to take her to the emergency room.” Stunned, I ask, “Now?” And he says yes. While she had informed me earlier that she might ask to go to the emergency room if the coughing didn’t stop (it’s gone on way too long, and it’s not the cancer, it’s a secondary infection caused by some medication or something she took a few months ago, and she somehow contracted bronchitis), I hadn’t realized she meant tonight. She told me not to be scared, that they could treat her in the ER and that’s the only reason they might go there, and I smiled and said, of course I won’t be scared, that’s silly. But when Poopah came in and told me they were going…. My heart went kerplump, and the same feeling I get right before a test crept into my stomach and my head swirled around.
She’s going to be fine, I’m sure. She just wants them to do something about the coughing, I think. And the fever. But, while she IS dying (we’re all dying, if you want to be existentialist about it), she’s not dying tonight. They told me to go to bed; they’ll be there most of the night most likely. I shouldn’t worry.
Yeah right, I won’t worry.
