52

 

Janet McGregor moved in that evening. She fed Dad his dinner of pureed vegetables and beef. Then she gave him a sponge bath, took care of his needs, and got him settled in for the night. Even though I offered her a private bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, she said she’d rather sleep in the lift chair beside Dad’s bed. I give her two nights before she crawls into that comfy guest bed. I’ve spent many an hour in that lift chair, and it isn’t conducive to a restful night’s sleep.

I gave Marcy the next two days off with pay so she will be rested for what’s to come. She didn’t argue, but implored me to call her if anything changes, or if I need her.

With Janet right there with Dad, David and I can relax for an evening. We make love for the first time in two weeks, and the lovemaking overflows with emotion, tenderness, and the need for closeness. Our passion turns into an urgent coupling that embraces the gift of our life together.

Afterward we hold tightly to each other throughout the night. We are fulfilled, we are relieved, we are exhausted; as a result, we find some much-needed peace that allows a long and refreshing slumber.

I wake up after eight a.m. in a panic. Nick needs to go out, and I have to see what, if any, changes have occurred in Dad overnight. David is still asleep, so I don’t bother to turn on the light to get dressed. I grab a warm robe and step into my Uggs in anticipation of taking Nick out.

When I get downstairs, I hear music playing and I smell coffee, plus something comforting baking—cinnamon rolls?

Janet has taken charge and taken over the apartment kitchenette. She pours herself a cup of coffee and offers me one. “No thanks. I have to take Nick out before he has a major accident.”

She smiles and tells me she already took him out.

“Oh, Janet, that’s not part of your job. I’m so sorry you had to do that. We just slept late this morning. I don’t even remember if we set the alarm, but we’re usually up by six to take him out.”

“Not a problem. I’m glad you got some sleep. I have a Great Dane who’s ten years old, and he has the same hip dysplasia as Nick. I have the same kind of harness for him.”

I sigh with relief. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Want to say good morning to your dad?”

“How is he?”

“About the same.”

And he is. He’s sleeping, but he’s been shaved and has on a clean pair of pajamas. Nick is on the mat next to him and struggles to get up. I hold up my hand. “Just a minute, big boy.” Grabbing the large towel we use to put under him, I hoist him up.

After he’s on his feet, he buries his head in between my legs. He’s a study in misery and need. I bend down and kiss his face all over. I rub his head, then push my head against his for our game of push back. He yips softly and participates as well as he can. He swabs my face with a long stroke of his tongue. I kiss the graying, tender part of his soft cheek in return.

When I turn to Dad, his eyes are open and he’s watching us. “So much love.” He’s muttering, but I hear and understand his words.

“So much love for you, too, Dad.”

I don’t want his eyes to close again, because it could be hours before he wakes up. “How about a cup of coffee, Dad?”

He looks interested for about two seconds but then closes his eyes. I’m deflated. I wanted more of him this morning. I want more of him for every minute he’s alive.

Nick emits a low whine, and I pet his head while watching Dad for signs of revival. Unlikely. Very unlikely.

“How about you, Nickaroo? Are you hungry? Do you want your breakfast?” He knows that word, of course, but he doesn’t react. At all.

Oh, my God, what’s happening here?

When Janet comes in I tell her about the sequence of events that just unfolded with both Dad and Nick.

Her eyes hold mine. “They’re both passing, Rachel. Many of the same symptoms that affect a person at the end of life also affect an animal.”

I nod. “It’s remarkable, isn’t it? The similarities?”

“It is. I’ve seen it a few times in my life, and it never fails to amaze me. Sometimes I’ve thought the person and the dog develop the same symptoms out of a sympathy of sorts. Does that sound crazy?”

“No, it doesn’t sound crazy. I’ve thought the exact same thing.” I take Dad’s hand. My other hand reaches for Nick. He’s still standing, and now I see the discomfort in his eyes.

“You want to lie back down, Nick?”

He shifts from foot to foot, slowly and painfully, telling me that’s what he wants. I support him with the towel as he eases back down on the mat.

“You’re so good with both of them,” Janet tells me.

“I love them both so much.”

“That’s evident.”

Dad and Nick have their eyes closed, and it looks as if they’re in for a long nap. “I’m going upstairs to wake David, and then shower.” My voice sounds hollowed out.

“Take your time. I’ve got everything covered.”

I nod and mumble some sort of statement about being grateful, then head out of Dad’s room and up the steps with a heavy, labored tread.

 

 

Hospice has called to say two nurses will be here at ten to get Dad evaluated for the end-of-life care he’s going to need.

I join David as he answers the door, and we introduce ourselves to Dorothy and Betty. Both hand David a business card. Dorothy encourages us to keep it nearby in case there’s any reason to call.

“What reasons?” I ask.

“That’s what we’re here to talk about, among many other things,” Betty answers.

Over the next two hours, they dose us with reality, and break our hearts.