Going To The Hospice House

She didn't want to go to the Hospice House. She said she would die there. But the Hospice home nurse swore that it was just for a couple of days to get her medicine regulated. I went along with it because it was a plan and I didn't want to see her slumped anymore at the kitchen table about to fall out of her chair afraid to go to bed, because she hated that room and was also afraid of dying there.

The last episode of getting Brenda ready was like all the others. I pushed and cajoled. She wanted to slow down, to not go, to stay where she was and sleep at the kitchen table in front of her little TV and Nancy Grace and the Cooking Channel. She cried for me to leave her alone that she couldn't make it. But I was committed to the plan and pushed on.

When we finally got into the car and had one more dose of morphine, it wasn't so bad. Driving across town in the rain and failing light we got silly and sang a Christmas carol - We Three Kings I Think.

By the time we got to the Hospice House, which appeared in a winter field just over the crest of a low hill, Brenda did what she always did. She joined into the adventure, talked with the people, and looked around at the chalet-like surroundings as the nurse, a dusky man of deep wisdom, ferried her down the hall to her room.