All the Single Ladies: A Novel Read Free Page A

arrived on Suzanne’s doorstep with only what she could fit in her trunk.
    “Well, it’s not great,” I said. “Kathy had a really difficult night last night. So the doctor ordered morphine for her and that’s why she’s resting now. He thinks it’s time to begin administering pain meds on a regular basis.”
    “Is she already going into organ failure?” Carrie said.
    Boy, I thought, for a nonprofessional she sure is familiar with how we die.
    “Oh God!” Suzanne exclaimed. “She can’t go yet! I promised her I’d take her out to the beach!”
    “The minute I came in this morning I could smell death in every corner of her room,” Carrie said.
    “Don’t be such a pessimist. She’s just having a setback, isn’t she?” Suzanne asked. “Do you think we can get her out to Isle of Palms? Maybe by next week?”
    “To be honest?” I said. “Who knows? She has a living will that dictates the care she wants for herself, but when she’s unable to make decisions, like now . . . You have her health care proxy. Her will says she does not want to be resuscitated or intubated.”
    “Yes. I know that,” Suzanne said.
    “Anyway, we feel the time has come to provide maximum comfort for her. Her living will also says, as I’m sure you know, that she asked for pain medication as needed.”
    “Are you asking my permission?” Suzanne said.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Is she in pain now?” Carrie said.
    “She was last night, but as you can see, she’s resting comfortably now,” I said.
    “Then give her whatever she needs,” Suzanne said. “Please. God, I don’t want her to suffer!”
    “She won’t suffer, will she?” Carrie said.
    “We will do everything in our power to see that she doesn’t. I promise,” I said.
    “Is this the end?”
    This was the question every single person who worked at Palmetto House dreaded. I gave her the best answer I could.
    “Oh, Suzanne. If I knew the answer to that, I’d be, well . . . I don’t know what I’d be. Einstein? The truth is that no one can precisely predict the hour of someone’s death. But there are signs. As she gets closer to the end, things will change, and I promise I will tell you all I know.”
    Suzanne’s bottom lip quivered and she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Carrie’s eyes were brimming with tears too. She put her arm around Suzanne’s shoulder and gave her a good squeeze. They were both devastated. I pulled tissues from the box on the desk and offered them. Even though I’d seen this wrenching scenario play through more times than I wanted to remember, this seemed different. It felt personal. And suddenly I was profoundly saddened. I had become involved. In my mind, seeing Kathy Harper’s demise was like witnessing a terrible crash in slow motion.
    “I’m okay. Sorry,” Suzanne said. “It’s just that this whole thing is so unfair.”
    “Yes. It is terribly unfair,” I said, “But I can tell you this. Everyone around here has seen y’all come and go a million times since Kathy came to us. And every time you visit, her spirits perk up, and by the time you leave, she honestly feels better. Who could ask for better friends? Y’all have done everything that anyone could do.”
    “Thank you,” Suzanne said, and then paused, gathering her thoughts. “Oh God! I really hoped, or I had hoped, that she’d get to a place where she could come to the beach to convalesce. The salt air would do her so much good.”
    “Well, for now I think we just take one day at a time.”
    “Yes,” Carrie said. “God, this stinks. This whole business stinks.”
    “It sure does. But, listen. Keep talking to her, even when she appears to be sleeping,” I said, “because she can probably hear you. She just can’t respond. Y’all are helping her in ways you can’t even imagine.”
    “And shouldn’t we pray?” Carrie said. “Prayer can’t hurt.”
    “That’s right,” Suzanne said to no one in particular.
    “Prayer helps