Oh Dear Silvia (29 page)

Cassie picks up the corner of the sarong and the sheet, to where she can see her mother’s body. Silvia is facing the other way now, so Cassie slowly climbs into the bed and puts her back up against her mother’s. She puts her head on the white bear, pulls the beautiful fabric around her and lies still. With each laboured breath, Cassie tries to relax and chime in with the same rhythm, until eventually she succeeds and she is inhaling and exhaling simultaneously.

Cassie likes it more than she could ever have imagined. The intimacy is bliss. Her body gradually starts to imbibe the heat of her mother, and she begins to unwind. They lie spine to spine, breathing steadily. Cassie closes her eyes, and in so doing, she can, just for this short time, imagine she is loved by her mum.

It’s all she wants, and it’s the best.

She is being transported back in time by everything sensory in her, and she is remembering fragments of her very young childhood when she was held close, when she felt safe, when the love was guaranteed and endless. The delight is intense, but the time is short and precious, so Cassie instinctively knows what she must do. She turns over, and when she is curled up, spooning her mother’s back, she slips her arm around to place the bear next to Silvia and to pull her close. Cassie is wrapped around Silvia pulling her in as tight as she can, rocking her gently. She wants to stay there together like that for always. She buries her face in her mother’s red red hair. Cassie’s red hair is indistinguishable from Silvia’s.

Cassie reaches her mouth up to her mother’s ear and she whispers quietly.

‘Here it is Mum, here’s the love. Have it all.’

Friday noon

Winnie takes the opportunity to nip into Suite 5 for a few minutes alone with Silvia while she checks and washes her. She has told the other nurse she can do it alone. Cassie and Jo are in the day room with the doctor. They had lots of questions, so Winnie ushered them all into the small day room with the two sofas and a fish tank, to talk in private, and away from Silvia.

The fish tank is a gift from a well-meaning family who spent many difficult hours in that room when it was bare. Somewhere in that time, they must have had a conversation about what the room needed to cheer it up and they decided a fish tank was the answer. Was it unanimous? Or did one brave renegade unsuccessfully advocate a puzzle table or even a PlayStation and screen for the kiddies? The fish tank arrived on the ward two weeks after the death of their relative, and
has been a nightmare ever since, causing ructions amongst the staff, none of whom want any of the responsibilities associated with it. It has to be maintained, regularly cleaned, the fish must be fed, dead ones have to be scooped out and replaced, the filters and pumps have to be checked. The ruddy thing is always leaking, and when it does, it shorts out other electrics in its vicinity, requiring engineers to be called up, who take ages to come because the tank is hardly a priority in a busy hospital. Meanwhile more fish die, and so it goes.

Winnie has come to dislike the fish tank and all its inhabitants, but, ever willing, she has taken on the responsibility with good grace, and she hopes that, as Cassie and Jo are sitting in there, no doubt hearing very difficult information, they might at least get some distraction, if nothing else, from the bloody fish tank. Winnie has recently shelled out fourteen pounds to replace all the fish after they copped it, one after another. Her stomach churned when they were down to just one ugly toady-looking fish and she introduced a new one, which it immediately attacked and ate. It transpired he was the murderer all along, of all the others. Winnie left him alone in the tank for a few days to swim about and reflect on his bloodthirsty cannibalism, and the dreadful massacre he wrought. The gory carnage.

While she was leaving him to repent in solitary confinement, she also decided to ‘forget’ to feed him. She felt a tiny bit guilty about it, but disgusting images of his fishy slaughter shored her up. He was an evil fish and he must go to his maker
with his own conscience. Alarmingly quickly, he turned up his fins and she wasn’t sad to find him floating on top of the water, utterly dead. She used the net to fish him out and took no little satisfaction in lobbing him into the big yellow bin marked ‘hospital waste’.

That was a couple of weeks ago and, since then, she has populated the tank with lots of small brightly coloured happy fish who are getting on well and seem to have no desire to murder each other, mainly because they are plastic …

Winnie is aware that time is running out for Silvia. She wants to make sure that what little life she has left on this earth is pain-free, clean and dignified. Winnie knows that pretty soon, all of the machines will be withdrawn from Silvia if the family choose that route, which she hopes they do. She wants to make Silvia ready without interfering with any personal time the family need.

Winnie will miss Silvia in her own right. For some reason, she has talked more to Silvia than any other patient she has had. She always makes sure she addresses every patient, but Silvia is different … Winnie has properly confided in her. Winnie’s life has been through considerable change in these last ten days, and Silvia has witnessed it all.

If indeed she has.

Whichever way, Winnie regards Suite 5 as a safe telling place.

‘Mi come fe wash you, Silvia, mek you all nice fe all dose
visitors comin in. An’ nice fe you, to feel as upful as you can. Yu have much crosses to bear at dis trouble time wid dat nasty h’infection. H’only yu know how it feel. Mi no know a wa dat. Nobuddi else, but yu. Mi mek haste, an get yu feelin fresh, yes?’

Winnie has her bowl of soapy warm water and a new, clean muslin cloth. She dunks the cloth and squeezes it out, wringing the excess water back into the bowl. It trickles down, and Winnie begins her last wash of Silvia.

This is a religious ritual for Winnie, a devotion.

The water is cleansing, purifying. It’s Jordan, it’s goodness, it’s God.

‘Mi haffi tell yu Silvia. Mi got doves in mi heart today. Dem all coo away, surprise yu cyaan hear it. H’Edward tek mi up to ’im forest last night. Bwoy! It sooo pretty pretty dere. Beautiful. ’Im tek mi so careful tro’ the trees, walkin gently on de bracken an’ leaves wid de giant mudda trees all arong us, so high an’ wide. We go right inside, to the very miggle. High high to heaven an’ wide wide to de seas. Mi nevva haffi time dese days to h’appreciate nature enough, an’ it such a place of God, Silvia. He is dere, in h’every lickle ting, h’every leaf an’ h’every twig, his h’omnipotence. Mi know it so clear. An’ h’Edward ’im know so much about all dem tree! ’Im know everyting.

‘Mi feel privilege to stan’ dere wid ’im reasoning so clevva in praise of Mudda Nature an’ all she finery. It speak to me, loud an’ true. Mi heart fill up an’ mi have no choice but to sing. Oh
Silvia, it full of glory. God is in dat place. No doubt. And also Silvia, mi hope you hear dis wid respec’ … but … love also in dat place. And in here …’

She touches her heart.

‘Y’know, mi meet plenty man inna dis short life so far. But not like h’Edward. None like dat good man. An ’im definitely good. ’Im made of goodness. Mi know it deep dung. It truut. When mi know facts, mi can say facts. ’Im mek mi feel ageless, light as a fedda, like a young gyal h’again. Mi tink we a go mek a life togedda, Silvia, an mi wan’ yu to know becaa mi respec’ yu, an’ becaa yu should know, mi a go do everyting to mek it good fe h’Edward an’ Cassie an’ lickle Willow.

‘We gonna grow eachudda good, jus yu wait an’ see. Even the soldier boy I nevva met yet. Winnie goin to mek it so dere is a mudda in dat space yu leave. Mi know h‘Edward goin to mek good dad for Luke, an’ so it my duty an’ pleasure to do de syame fe dose kids o’ yours. Mi know yu would wish it so, Silvia, mi know it.’

Winnie has washed all of Silvia except her feet, which she comes to now. She takes the cloth and immerses it in the lovely water. She wrings it out, and some of the wonderful redeeming water drips back into the basin. She opens the cloth and wraps it around Silvia’s left foot, encasing it in the wet warmth. She holds it tight to give Silvia any tiny morsel of comfort that simple act might provide. How lovely to have your foot held, supported, cradled. Before the cloth has a chance to go cold,
she massages the foot with it, separating the toes and going between, sweeping down and under the heel in a sure, confident circular motion. When she is finished with the left foot, she does the same to the right.

The ceremony of it matters to Winnie. Silvia is not religious and the family have rejected any suggestion of a vicar or last rites or anything, so this is Winnie’s small symbolic way of showing her reverent respects, of giving praise and thanks for Silvia and of believing in the goodness of her soul. It is a pious and devout act. Quiet and personal. And beautiful.

When Winnie has finished washing Silvia’s right foot she takes a towel and pats both feet dry. She makes sure the bedding and the colourful sarong don’t encase her feet. Ed has explained that she always liked to keep them out of the sheets, in the fresh air, so Silvia tucks the bedding out of the way, and gently lays her feet on top. Her elegant long white Venus-like feet.

Winnie can hear the voices of Jo and Cassie in the corridor. Their meeting with the doctor is over. She can hear a deep voice joining on. It’s Ed. He is outside now too. The family are gathering. It’s time for Winnie to take her place firmly in the background. The next phase of her role begins now. She must assist with the dying, make it the best death it can be, and do her best to support the friends and family. That’s all part of the nursing, and maybe now, the most important part.

She steals this moment to speak her truth to Silvia.

‘Silvia? Mi feel sure yu can still hear me, yes? Yu know yu not goin to recover from dis. Yu know dat. Yu time soon come. But wait, sista, an’ hear mi out, mi know fe sure dat yu a go to a better place, a great place, to paradise, Silvia, to de Lord. Go home to glory. Don’t be afeard, nuttin gonna hurt yu. Dis is yu homegoing. Yu gonna be bathed in light. Yes Jesus. Yu gonna be saved. Mi jus’ wan’ to say, it’s bin mi privilege to nurse yu. Yu a good woman. An’ yu truly loved. Mi walk wid yu right to de gates, OK? So, go well Silvia, go well.’

She hurries from the room, to give the family as much time as they can have. She knows the way only a nurse knows, it really won’t be long now.

Friday 12.30pm

Winnie closes the door behind her, leaving Silvia alone for the first time since last evening when Ed arrived to keep the night vigil. They have all switched and shared the time with Silvia between them, like handing a baton on in a relay race against the clock. All have tried to give each other some space and somehow, as it remarkably does at crucial times like this, it has worked seamlessly. There has been a hushed respect, which has flourished inside the diminishing time. There isn’t room for selfishness here, they must all give the best of themselves.

Inside Suite 5, there is only one energy.

Silvia.

Her life force is fading but right now, she is still alive, and while she lives, she is the pivot for them all. She is why they are circling around, collecting together to share however it is going to be. She has drawn them in.

She.

Her.

She.

Silvia.

Jo, Cassie and Ed are clustered together in the corridor. Ed is wide-eyed, unshaven, and stunned. Winnie brings them all into the windowless day room with the fish tank beaming its cheerfulness out brightly in the corner, she touches his arm reassuringly, and she goes to fetch tea. Something has ruffled Ed badly, but what’s happening here in the hospital is more pressing, so he listens carefully whilst Jo and Cassie explain in detail the conversation they have had with the doctor.

Cassie speaks pointedly to her father.

‘I think this is it, Dad. The doctor said the infection is bad …’

‘Getting worse, gaining control, grim …’ Jo chimes in, ensuring the story is as overdramatic and alliterative as it can be.

‘Yes,’ Cassie agrees generously, allowing her aunty to indulge, ‘basically, they can’t really do much more now. She is going to find it increasingly difficult to breathe …’

‘Gasping, choking, wheezing, drowning …’

‘Aunty Jo, I don’t think we need to …’

‘No, of course darling, sorry, I’m just drawing the picture for your dad …’

‘Right, well, she said they would recommend taking her off everything, the drips, the ventilator, everything …’

‘The catheter would, of course, remain …’

Jo is determined to be precise. The detail is presently keeping her focused. The bigger picture is too horrific.

‘Yes. Umm … they’re saying it’s our decision entirely since there’s no living will or anything …’

Ed rubs his stubbly face, and says, ‘Actually, this isn’t a hard decision, for my part I mean. I know it’s tough, it’s bloody awful, but the fact is, I remember having a conversation soon after we were married actually, yonks ago, about exactly this sort of scenario. We were driving somewhere. Dunno. I thought she was being a bit morbid at the time, but I clearly remember her saying she wouldn’t want to be kept alive “like Frankenstein”, should she not be able to live decently, sort of thing, y’know, independently.

‘I remember because I violently disagreed. About her, I mean. Yep, she definitely said that. Or words to that effect. Typically contrary. Stubborn. God. I never thought …’

Cassie is relieved.

‘Really? Right. Well I suppose it’s obvious then …’

‘Oh Christ, we’re going to kill her!’ Jo gasps.

Ed is forced to take control.

‘Jo! Will you stop your bloody nonsense. This is hard enough without your drama. Stop it please.’

‘Yes, yes. Sorry Ed. Sorry Cassie. It’s just …’

‘I know,’ says Cassie as she pats Jo on her hand, ‘but it’s the right thing. We all know it is, and from what Dad says, Mum’s already made the decision, it’s out of our hands.’

‘Yes. Yes,’ Jo concedes.

‘It’s going to happen anyway Aunty Jo, we’re just making sure she’s comfortable.’