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Tom's
Page > Writing > Degrees & Inches - Preface
| This is my first novel, Degrees
and Inches. This is the book's preface. (updated 10/30/2003) Please note that these works must be considered only as a ' in progress'. Most of it is in a raw, unedited form. It contains numerous misspellings, grammatical errors, run-ons, fragments and every other possible error. including personal judgement, opinion and stereotyping. But I've found that when the mood to write strikes me I better get my thoughts down on paper. The editing will also take place here so there will be constant changes. |
"Here’s another blanket, Mrs. Sipes. Let’s keep you warm." The nurse, Annie Davis, RN, returned to the chair at the foot of the bed and sat. She didn’t know which was worse- watching this woman's death or her husband holding her hand, whispering into her ear. This life was coming to a close. The visiting Hospice nurse watched the changes in her patient as her body shut down. It was by no means the worst death she had attended, but it was premature- probably unnecessary. But that was beside the point. She knew the signs. Blood pooled in the vital organs in a vain attempt to maintain life. The skin lost its color, her extremities cold. She slept constantly. More telling were her irregular breathing patterns. The shallow, rapid breathing started an hour ago. Now she was taking slow breaths- no more than two or three times a minute. Death was quickly overtaking this woman. Nothing would change that. Her husband also knew what was coming. John Sipes didn’t do anything without learning everything he could about it. He was his own worse critic. He considered it a personal weakness to not understand what was happening to his wife- no matter what his feelings were. When the first Hospice nurse came to their home she had brought several pamphlets. Each was carefully written based upon their staff’s collective experiences trying to make the death process easier to accept. Families normally ignored them. But this man read them. He asked intelligent questions. He asked questions beyond the reach of the pamphlets- some of which she couldn’t answer. But he didn’t ask her why? Everyone asked why but he didn’t- why not? She dismissed the thought. The rest of the family was absent. They said their good-byes two days ago. Annie Davis was here then too, witnessing the ritual from a discreet distance. David, their son, wanted to be here now but was overruled by his father. He approached the nurse asking her to intercede. It hurt her to see his pain and tears, but she demurred. "Your mother doesn’t want you to see her die. Your dad is trying to do what she asked. It’s hard for him, too." She had never seen a policeman cry before. There was a long sigh from Marsha Sipes, her eyes opening slightly. John kept whispering, holding her hand. The Hospice nurse remembered the previous week. Her patient fought so hard against death- unwilling to continue her journey. After the family gathered to say goodbye that all changed. She became calm. Whatever conflicts in place before that final gathering, they were now reconciled. "I hope I’ll be able to do that with my family" she thought. John continued to whisper to his wife- the nurse couldn’t hear him. "Marsha, it’s time to rest. It’s time to let go. Everything here is taken care of. Your parents are waiting for you. Your grandparents are waiting for you. Everything you started here is done. Please rest. It’s okay to go. It’s all right Dave and Lucy are fine. I love you. I will always love you. Please, it’s okay to go- I won’t forget you and I’ll make sure they don’t do this to anyone else. I promise." Another breathe, her chest rose and fell. It did not rise again. He let go of her hand and reached across her body to hold her. He kissed her cheek and said, "I’m sorry, Marsha. Please forgive me." The nurse placed her stethoscope on her patient's chest. She could hear a cool rustling but the heartbeat was absent. She nodded at the man, a tear sliding down her cheek. She had gotten too close, again. Out of habit she looked at her watch to record the time of death. She glanced up, surprised to see the man looking at his own watch. He looked carefully around the room. The nurse was no longer watching. She was busy filling out the paperwork. He waited as her brain died. When he was sure his wife was gone, he got very close to her ear, where he was sure he could not be observed. Quietly, more quietly than he had ever spoken to her, he whispered, "I'm glad you're finally dead, you fucking bitch." © Thomas N. Wood, 2002-2004 All Rights Reserved This work, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the author. |
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