Letting one be free is sometimes the hardest gift to bestow upon another person, yet it can be the one of greatest value. Without personal choice, freedom is but a laughable reality.
Another case which was marked by what I would consider faulty and injurious judgment involved a couple who had been married for 52 years.
This couple was a cla.s.sic example of opposing personalities living together under one roof; she was a rational, mild-mannered lady, while he was obnoxious in every possible sense of the word, needing to be the constant attraction and princ.i.p.al authority presiding over any group or function. He had to have his way or he would make life truly miserable for the unfortunate individual who attempted to voice an opinion, carrying out his revenge with cruel indignance.
After suffering what appeared to have been a stroke, the woman was hospitalized only to discover that a tumor had formed in her brain. It was evident she would not have long to live, so she decided to forgo the torture which would accompany chemotherapy, the sole option of treatment, and explicitly informed her husband of her wishes. As time pa.s.sed and her condition grew worse, she eventually lost all ability to verbally communicate; it was at this point that her husband bid the doctors to administer chemotherapy, with the supposed hope that she would regain some of her lost functions. Consciously aware of the decision which had been made by her husband on her behalf, yet incapable of voicing her opposition as to its commencement, she was forced to submit, for the last time, to her husband"s self-centered dominance. He saw in her eyes that she begged to be released from the treatment, but he played the ignorant fool and watched as she quietly faded into the obscure limbo of unconsciousness.
All through their life together, until her quiet end, the man thought only of securing enjoyment for himself. When he felt his well-being was in danger, he sought only to maintain his happiness, which had little to do with the welfare of his dying wife. This was apparent in his total lack of empathy regarding her wishes, and the merciless ignorance of her speechless plea.
It is difficult for me to believe that such selfish persons exist, for I hope the vast majority of people will conquer their selfish tendencies in order to facilitate the desires of their loved one, even if it shall mean a more rapid decline in health. It is important to realize that only the patient suffers bodily pain; it is ultimately he who must undergo the treatment, which could in fact, significantly alter his overall comfort.
For these combined reasons, I feel it is fair to allow a mentally intact individual to decide how his remaining days shall he spent; this is why open conversation among family members is of such great consequence. When the illness prevents further decisions on the part of the patient, it is then up to the family to respect his previously stated wishes and, should further decisions need to be made beyond those which had been specified, strive to make new options benefit the patient"s comfort. Above all else, kindness should prevail and guide in the solutions to any questions which might occur concerning the patient"s death. A patient should not be made to suffer through a lack of acceptance on the part of the family; behavior of this sort not only uses the dying, it overtly abuses them.
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Chapter 28 Christmas 1981
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Christmas 1981
I had always loved Christmas, but it was special that year. Like all else in my life Christmas had not actually changed; the lights were no brighter, and the first snow was just as brilliant. However, I realized that the holiday could easily be my last, and I wanted my final memories to be vivid.
To make the most of the day, preparations were always begun directly after Thanksgiving. The Indian corn was packed away and the Christmas decorations took their place, transforming the house into an inescapable reminder of love and happiness. Each ornament, given to me by Mom for my own future tree, I unwrapped with care, wooden men, mice with gla.s.ses, corn husk dolls... they added life to a sapless tree.
Cookie baking commenced following Thanksgiving also, and continued sporadically up to the 23rd of December. Because Mom was engaged with her kindergarteners, I often baked the bulk of the cookies during the season. Dad and Norm also appreciated my endeavor, but for reasons unrelated to Mom"s.
The most fun I had was shopping for gifts. Norm did not share my enthusiasm in this area. His miserly side sometimes bloated to monstrous proportions, and since he seldom indulged in frivolous expenditures, he saw no reason to do so for anyone else. However, more than having a penchant for saving money or a distaste toward giving unneeded gifts, his aggravation could have been a result of his agoraphobic nature; Christmas meant shopping and shopping meant stores, and stores meant people, and all four elements meant chaos and incredible stress for Norm. Occasionally we would stop and browse in a shop if he was not nervous, especially when we were on one of our drives that skirted small towns; otherwise we avoided heavily crowded public areas.
After Thanksgiving my brother and I drove to the Amana Colonies in lowa, a tourist attraction in themselves. We wandered into several shops. At one, a shop selling woolens, we happened upon a shearling coat of rugged beauty and timeless appeal.
"What a coat..." Norm inspected the workmanship and overall appearance with something akin to awe.
"I wonder if I should try it on..."
"Go ahead!"
I had never witnessed Norm so utterly engrossed by something of material significance. He slid the coat off its hanger and, shouldering the bulky hide, stepped before the mirror. Few people could have pulled off a look like that; he resembled a veteran mountaineer.
"It really looks good," I said.
"Yeh, not bad, huh?" It wasn"t immodest; it was true. He replaced the coat and, giving it a long look in parting, strolled out of the store.
"That was some coat," he raved. Norm talked about it all the way home.
Half-way home I knew what I was going to buy him for Christmas.
The following afternoon found my dad and me on the highway, heading for the colony so I could buy the sheepskin coat. Clenching my purse, I couldn"t wait to relinquish the folded bills in my wallet.
"This is going to be the best Christmas!" I exclaimed.
Dad looked at me as if I had slipped into lunacy. I hadn"t expected him to understand; he was too bitter about my recurrence of cancer.
I thought of the previous Christmas when Norm had given me the gold watch necklace. I had been flabbergasted, not only because of the great expense, but because of the love expressed through its purchase.
The coat was a similar expression, plus a great deal of grat.i.tude. I needed to say thanks in a way that would last. I never stopped to calculate the length of a lifetime, but believed the coat would survive that long.
On Christmas Eve the gifts were opened.
"Norm, what do you think of mine?" I baited him.
"Didn"t you get my gift yet?" I continued.
He looked about his feet for unopened packages, but found nothing. I knew he would not; the coat was still in my closet.
"Oh! I guess it"s still upstairs!" I raced up the steps to retrieve the coat, then decided to put it on and wear it downstairs.
Unable to rid my voice of its smile, I presented him with the coat hanger.
"It"s all yours," I said.
Norm looked at the hanger, the coat, at me, at the coat again.
"You"re kidding..."
"No!"
Tears welled up in his eyes as the truth sunk in. Perhaps Norm best described the way he was feeling when he said. . . "what a load!"
It was almost more than a person could handle.
We took a nighttime stroll after our celebration ended. The air was crisp and clear and stars blinked like thousands of tree lights. Apart from our conversation all was silent, befitting the midnight hush.
This was, indeed, the best Christmas.