Internal Medicine by Terrence Holt

Author:Terrence Holt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Schwartz Publishing Pty. Ltd

THAT EVENING, I LOOKED in briefly, but the room was quiet, Marie asleep, one of the girls slumped half over the bed. The monitor high over Marie was the only sign of life, the green light dancing in the darkened room. She was restless, her face twitching, brow furrowed, but still she seemed asleep. Dreaming, I thought, then pushed the thought away. I stopped at the nursing station to order two more milligrams of morphine.

In the morning, after rounds, after another sleepless night, I went in to shut off Marie’s dobutamine. Her pressure had started drifting down, but otherwise there had been no change. The whole family had gathered again at the bedside, joined by a few more faces that shared the stamp of Marie’s pointed chin and broad forehead. There was also a large, freshly bathed and shaved figure introduced as the pastor. It was time.

I went to the head of the bed. Marie looked up at me. “Hello, Doctor,” she said.

“How are you?” I asked, the question sounding less inane than I expected it would.

She waved a hand vaguely. “Here,” she gasped, attempting a laugh, and then the hand subsided.

“I’m going to turn off the dobutamine now. Is that all right?”

“Yes. Turn it off.” She almost rose from the bed with a sudden vehemence that startled me.

“Are you sure?” I asked reflexively.

“Yes.” Her voice rose sharply. “Turn it off. Now!” With her left arm she gripped my sleeve. “You promised.”

She was wandering, I thought, addled by morphine and fatigue, drifting in and out of a place she did not trust. I only nodded, and turned to the nurse who had quietly followed me in. She bent beside the IV pole. The pump sighed to a halt, the grinding noise that had been unnoticeable up until then suddenly loud in its absence.

Nothing changed. The family stood still, looking at Marie as if they expected her to expire on the spot.

I moved back to the bed. “There,” I said.

She looked at me.

“Are you okay?” I smoothed a curl back from her forehead.

“Fine now,” she said. And then her right arm reached around and gripped my shoulder, pulling me toward her. I bent, obediently, thinking she wanted to say something.

Instead she planted a dry kiss on my cheek. I hung there a moment, holding my breath. Then I kissed her back. The skin of her cheek was very cool. She sighed, and her grip relaxed. I turned and left the room.

It took Marie four hours to die. I was in and out of the room, checking for signs of distress. There were none. On one of those visits, I reached up and turned off the bedside monitor: she had a pacemaker, and I didn’t want the family to see the tracings continue after she was dead.

Around three-thirty, the nurse found me at the station.

“Twelve is gone.”

I sighed, and pulled myself upright.

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