Part Fifty-Two

Continued from Part Fifty-One. Peggy and Raoul are in New Orleans with Raoul's sister, Fran. Fran's best friend is in the hospital after a stroke. Hurricane Katrina is coming, but no one is paying any attention to it yet.

The intensive care waiting area was designed for lots of grieving families. As Peggy entered behind Raoul and Fran, she saw that the room was subdivided into separate small waiting areas, each of these occupied by visitors huddled in tight groups, some holding hands, many with red, puffy eyes. Each group was strikingly similar: young, old and middle-aged people looking as though they were suddenly sucked together in come-as-you-are fashion, uprooted from jobs and distant homes. She saw luggage, toys, styrofoam coffee cups, pillows, blankets, granola bars, raisins and shoes. Cell phones were plugged into the walls, and on a few television sets Peggy saw news reports of a hurricane called Katrina that had just passed through Florida.

Fran led them into an area where the bright overhead lights had been dimmed. It looked like a refugee camp. About a dozen people were sprawled on chairs and on the floor. A man groggy from lack of sleep came forward. "Hello Fran."

"Hello, Hulie. Any change?" said Fran with a worried expression.

The man shook his head. "She's on the breathing machine." He extended his hand to Raoul and Peggy. "I'm Hulie Lambert."

"This is my brother, Raoul," said Fran. "And this is Peggy. I needed to have someone with me. I hope that's okay. This is just so shocking. I just spoke to her on Saturday and told her happy birthday and she sounded fine."

A young boy came up with a worried expression and said, "Granny's brain stopped."

Hulie looked at him sadly. "The kids are really confused over this." After a pause he said, "You folks tired from your trip? We got coffee in the little kitchen over there, but it's not very good by New Orleans standards. Whenever you're ready I'll take you to see Mom."

Peggy started to retreat to the kitchen. She didn't want to intrude.

"I'd like to go right away," Fran said. "Can we all go?"

"I think it'd be all right. Jeanette's back there now."

Peggy changed directions and followed them. Raoul gave her a sympathetic look. She squeezed his hand. Peggy felt her heartbeat increase as she drew near the room. She imagined seeing her husband, Taylor, lying in one of the beds as they passed the other glass-enclosed intensive care rooms. It was irrational, of course, she told herself: he had been dead for more than a year. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was living through the ordeal once again.

Agnes lay quietly on a bed, stuck with numerous needles and tubes. Her chest rose and fell along with the clicking sound of the ventilator. Each click was accompanied by a swish of air. Surrounding her was enough electronic hardware to fill a hobby shop. On the pillow near her head were several holy cards and rose petals and an old black-and-white photograph of Agnes as a young, vibrant woman sitting at a table and smiling at the camera with her mouth slightly open as though someone called out her name in mid-sentence.

A woman who looked exactly like Hulie backed away from the bed as they entered and then hugged Fran. "I'm so glad you could come," she said. Fran's entire body shook as she sobbed onto the woman's shoulders.

"I didn't get to say goodbye," said Fran.

"Nobody did," said the woman. Then she looked at Raoul and Peggy, who stood quietly at the rear of the room. "I'm Jeanette, Agnes's daughter."

Fran introduced them.

"I hope we're not intruding," said Peggy.

"Not at all. Fran is like family. We're very glad you got her here."

Fran spent some time next to Agnes, holding her hand, while Peggy and Raoul stood back and watched a procession of people come and go. The family members would come and stand by Agnes and cry for several minutes and then go away. Young children were brought in and they stood staring, trying to make sense of it. One little girl ran from the room in tears.

There was considerable discussion of whether or not Agnes was aware of anyone's presence. A priest from Agnes's church parish joined the group and told a story about visiting a comatose woman every day for several days and after she regained consciousness she identified him as the priest who had visited her, even though they had never met previously.

Nurses came in and out checking the equipment and the tubes and the breathing machine. Jeanette led the group in a prayer, while one of Agnes's sisters, Grace, sang a song in a soft voice.

Peggy found herself wishing that more people had been with Taylor at his deathbed, been with her to share in the grief. Taylor was an only child; Peggy, Marjorie and Taylor, Jr., were his only family. They held their vigil alone. What Peggy was witnessing here was far different.

"Agnes had six brothers and sisters," explained Fran. "And each of them had five or more children apiece. You're only seeing the tip of the ice berg."

"It gets pretty hectic when there's a critical mass of us," said Hulie. "Dang near everybody's got to talk at the same time."

Fran returned to the waiting room. Peggy and Raoul followed and got coffee from a little dispenser.

The doctor came in and assembled the group. Peggy heard much whispering, and anxiety.

"As you know I've been seeing Agnes for a long time," said the doctor in a warm, calm voice. He spoke slowly so that everyone understood his words. "Although I'm just as shocked and saddened as you are by this turn of events, I can't say it's entirely unexpected. You see, she had a large cluster of blood vessels right at the back of her head." He pointed to the back of his own head with his hand. "One or more of them burst just as she was coming in for an appointment. Her blood pressure has been very high, and she's been complaining of a headache the last couple of days. She lost consciousness very quickly and is not feeling any pain. Her heart is beating, but she's not breathing on her own. We're doing her breathing for her with the ventilator. There is no brain activity after two separate C.T. scans. In my opinion her condition is not operable."

There was silence among the group. Peggy heard the sound of the television set in another corner of the waiting area. The announcer was talking about Hurricane Katrina.

"How long should we keep her on the machine?" asked Jeanette.

"I think we should wait until everybody's had their time with her," said another woman who looked exactly like Jeanette and Hulie.

"Annie is right," said Jeanette. Then, to the doctor, she said, "If we kept her on the machine, how long would she stay like that?"

"Days, maybe weeks," said the doctor.

The siblings looked searchingly at each other. "What happens after we turn off the ventilator?"

"She won't breathe on her own for very long. Eventually her heart will stop beating."

"Will it be disturbing to watch?" said Annie.

The doctor hesitated. "I predict not. But I can't say for sure. You will have to decide for yourselves whether or not you want to be with her at the end."

The doctor went away while the family members debated what to do. There seemed to be consensus on the key issue: that the breathing machine should be removed and Agnes should be allowed to die. Whatever debate lingered was about how long to wait.

"I want to make sure everyone is satisfied," said Shirley, another of Agnes's daughters.

"Joe's only been here for a little while. He maybe hadn't been with her enough," said Hulie, turning to look at a young man reading a book to a child.

Peggy had reached the point where she could identify the siblings because they all looked alike.

"I'm okay, but Rita's in there reading the Bible to Mom and it didn't look like she was anywhere near done," said Joe.

"Well then let her read it," said Jeanette.

"How long should we wait?" said Annie.

"I gotta get some food soon," said Hulie.

"How can you talk about food?" said Shirley. "If Rita wants to read the whole darn Bible then go ahead and let her."

Peggy walked with Fran back to the kitchen and poured her some water from the tap. Fran gave her some background on Agnes's family: Hulie, Jeanette and Annie lived in the New Orleans area, while Shirley lived in Minnesota, Joe lived in Texas and Rita lived in Columbus, Georgia. She was an Army officer stationed at Fort Benning. Rita was the only one of the siblings that Peggy had not seen.

"What did you do in your late husband's case?" asked Raoul.

"He died without us having to make any decisions," said Peggy. "In a way it's a relief."

"This family is really shook up," said Fran. "Agnes was the center of things, especially in the years since her husband's death. She held them together. They argue about everything, but she was the common ground."

Rita came back from the intensive care room, led by Annie. Rita had the same face as the rest but looked different in other respects: her dark hair was cut very short and she was thin and athletic looking, like a military person.

After some whispered conversation, Jeanette went and told the doctor that he could disconnect Agnes. Twenty minutes later the head nurse invited the group to Agnes's bedside, at least those who wished to be there. Annie stayed behind with her young children. Peggy followed Fran back to the intensive care room.

Agnes was now free of tubes and needles except for a single device attached to her finger that measured her heartbeat. It was silent. She was very still. There was no more clicking sound from the ventilator. All of the computer screens were dark and pushed to the side. A nurse monitored Agnes from her station outside the room.

The family members and Fran stood in a semicircle around the bed. Peggy and Raoul stood behind Fran. Peggy could not get the image of Taylor out of her mind. Yet her initial feeling of sadness was disappearing. Watching Agnes die was a reminder that Taylor was really gone. It was so final. The body was a finite thing, and when it was used up the soul went somewhere else. Peggy had a memory of Taylor, but it was just a memory. Her own body hadn't been used up yet, she was walking, talking, breathing, laughing. There was no point in ceasing to live because your loved one ceased to live. She breathed a silent word of thanks to Agnes. There was value in this, Peggy told herself. She held Raoul's hand.

Peggy started paying more attention to other members of the family while they talked in soft tones. She realized that some of the other adults were actually the grown- up grandchildren. One of them, she learned, was Eric, a young man close to graduating from medical school.

Eric was going back and forth between the nurse's station and the room while everyone stood around Agnes. Finally, Eric came in and announced softly that she was gone. Her heart had stopped. The change in Agnes was not noticeable. She had simply left her body.

The family members touched her arms and hair and said their final words. Rita picked up her mother's Bible and the cards and rose petals and photos that had been laid out on the bed. The nurse brought a small package and gave it to Jeanette. It was Agnes's purse and car keys and clothes. "Oh," Jeanette said, "and her dentures."

Back in the waiting area there was confusion about what to do next. Everyone was hungry. They discussed in great detail who was driving where and in which car. It was finally decided that they would gather at Agnes's house and that Hulie would stop on the way and pick up po-boy sandwiches. He went around with a piece of paper and a pencil and took everyone's order. Cell phones started ringing, as though news of Agnes's death had suddenly spread on its own. Annie was talking to the nurse about papers that had to be signed. Jeanette was trying to get everyone to agree on what time they would meet at the funeral home the next day.

When Hulie asked Peggy what kind of po-boy she wanted she had no idea what he was talking about, but Fran simply said "We'll take three fried shrimp, dressed."

After twenty minutes the crowd started moving slowly toward the elevators. Peggy rubbed her head trying to make sense of the many threads of conversation that were going on simultaneously: about the food, about the funeral, about Agnes's car, about calling this relative or that relative. Hulie was not kidding, they all talked at the same time. Peggy had difficulty figuring out how any actual communication was taking place.

By the time they all got to the first floor in two elevators it was decided that Rita would ride with Fran and Peggy and Raoul to Agnes's house.

They drove away from the hospital with Rita giving directions. The air had cooled slightly, but it was still muggy.

"What do you think of that hurricane?" Raoul asked Rita.

"Last I saw it was heading west. It'll probably hit Texas," said Rita.


TO BE CONTINUED

I am back on Bainbridge Island, WA. Please be patient for the next couple of parts as I try to tell the story about Hurricane Katrina.