Downloads From God: Seven Portals to Peace. Joe B. Adair

      The lack of interest or belief on the part of the nurse confused Rob. She seemed to have made up her mind about his dad without even considering what he had told her. He was sure these weren’t reflexes…at least he hoped they weren’t.

      Before he could go back into the room, a young woman in an attractive suit rounded the corner and called out to him. “Mr. Alexander, I’m Laura Jackson from the hospital’s hospice unit. Could we talk for a few minutes? Dr. Gray asked me to introduce myself and tell you a little about what we can offer your father.”

      Rob’s heart skipped a beat and he took a deep breath, “What do you mean?”

      “Well,” she said, “let’s sit over here and we can talk about this.” She motioned to two chairs near the hall window.

      Rob wanted to yell, “Get the Hell out of here and don’t come near my father!” but he knew he had to be polite, had to hear her out.

      “Well, Mr. Alexander,” she began, “your dad has been here for almost a week. He has been unconscious since his surgery. He is 83 years old and anesthesia can sometimes have a devastating effect on the brains of older people. If his condition is unchanged by tomorrow, it is time to determine a discharge plan.”

      “Oh my gosh,” this was what John had warned him about only hours earlier. His dad was getting better. He was feeling increasingly sure his dad was in there – would recover – would get back to Alice and Kathleen and the coffee shop.

      Rob cleared his throat, “Ms. Jackson, my dad is getting better each day and it is way too early to be making any decisions,” he said with confidence, repeating what John had told him.

      “I know we all hope that,” Ms. Jackson said, patting his hand in a patronizing way, “but he has led a good life, he’s 83, and I know you don’t want him to suffer.”

      The light began to dawn on Rob. Surely he was misunderstanding what she was saying. His legal cross-examination training kicked in. “Explain to me what hospice would do for him,” Rob asked, feigning interest.

      Laura Jackson thought she was well on her way to recruiting another admission for her unit, so she continued with enthusiasm. “Our unit is two floors up. He would be moved upstairs. All the tubes would be removed so he would be more comfortable, then we would give him the medicines he would need so that he would feel no pain, he wouldn’t suffer.”

      “So he would die?” Rob inquired, trying to be certain he was clear about her proposal.

      “Ever so gently,” she told him. “He would be at peace.”

      Rob had the uncomfortable feeling he was being asked to make a deal with the devil. He made one more attempt to clarify things. “But he seems to be aware of what’s going on,” Rob said, referring to the seeming responses he had observed in his dad.

      “Oh, the medications we use will ease any anxiety he is experiencing,” Laura explained, entirely missing the point of Rob’s statement. “And, a really important thing, Medicare totally pays for the service.”

      “No, No, No!” Rob wanted to scream, but he knew he had to act more low key. “Let me discuss everything with Dr. Gray tomorrow,” he told her. “Thank you for the information.” He took Ms. Jackson’s packet and followed her toward the nurses’ station.

      When she had entered the elevator, he emphatically told the nurse, “Keep those people away from my father! And, give me a list of all the medications he is receiving. I’ll wait here while you make me a copy.”

      If they wanted a fight, they would get a fight. He was in his dad’s corner now, firmly, just as his dad had always been for him.