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The Gate House :: Demille Nelson
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“Hello, Diane.”
“Follow me, please.”
I followed her down the long corridor. Mrs. Knight seemed like one of those health care professionals who was both stern and gentle, a result, no doubt, of having to deal with every conceivable human emotion in the House of the Dying.
She said to me as we walked, “Mrs. Allard is medicated for pain, so you may not find her as alert as you remember her.”
“I understand.”
“She is, however, lucid now, and all her mental faculties are intact.”
“Good.”
“Her pain is tolerable and manageable.”
“That’s good.” I had the feeling I was supposed to be asking questions to elicit these statements, so I asked, “How are her spirits?”
“Remarkably good.”
“Many visitors?”
“A few. Including your mother and your wife.”
“My ex-wife.” I inquired, “They’re not here now, are they?”
“No.” She glanced at my gift and said, “She’s going to love that Teddy bear.”
Mrs. Knight stopped at a door and said to me, “I’ll go inside and tell her you’re here.” She added, “It’s very good of you to come all the way from London to see her.”
“Yes, well… she’s a wonderful lady.”
“Indeed, she is.”
I wondered if there was another Ethel Allard here.
Mrs. Knight was about to open the door, but I asked, “How long…? I mean-”
“Oh, I’d say about half an hour at most.”
“Half an hour?”
“Yes, then she gets tired.”
“Oh. No, I meant-”
“I’ll stick my head in every ten minutes.”
“Right. What I meant… I’ll be in town for only a few more weeks, and I wondered if I’d have the opportunity to see her again.” Mrs. Knight was either not following me, or didn’t want to address the subject, so I asked bluntly, “How long does she have left to live?”
“Oh… well, we never speculate on that, but I’d say the end is near.”
“How near? Two weeks?”
“Maybe longer.” She informed me, “Ethel is a fighter.”
“Three?”
“Mr. Sutter. I can’t-”
“Right. I had an aunt once who-”
“You have no idea what I’ve seen here. Death is the great mystery of life, and so much depends on attitude and prayer.”
“Right. I believe that. I’ve been praying for her.” I need her house.
Mrs.
“Hello, Diane.”
“Follow me, please.”
I followed her down the long corridor. Mrs. Knight seemed like one of those health care professionals who was both stern and gentle, a result, no doubt, of having to deal with every conceivable human emotion in the House of the Dying.
She said to me as we walked, “Mrs. Allard is medicated for pain, so you may not find her as alert as you remember her.”
“I understand.”
“She is, however, lucid now, and all her mental faculties are intact.”
“Good.”
“Her pain is tolerable and manageable.”
“That’s good.” I had the feeling I was supposed to be asking questions to elicit these statements, so I asked, “How are her spirits?”
“Remarkably good.”
“Many visitors?”
“A few. Including your mother and your wife.”
“My ex-wife.” I inquired, “They’re not here now, are they?”
“No.” She glanced at my gift and said, “She’s going to love that Teddy bear.”
Mrs. Knight stopped at a door and said to me, “I’ll go inside and tell her you’re here.” She added, “It’s very good of you to come all the way from London to see her.”
“Yes, well… she’s a wonderful lady.”
“Indeed, she is.”
I wondered if there was another Ethel Allard here.
Mrs. Knight was about to open the door, but I asked, “How long…? I mean-”
“Oh, I’d say about half an hour at most.”
“Half an hour?”
“Yes, then she gets tired.”
“Oh. No, I meant-”
“I’ll stick my head in every ten minutes.”
“Right. What I meant… I’ll be in town for only a few more weeks, and I wondered if I’d have the opportunity to see her again.” Mrs. Knight was either not following me, or didn’t want to address the subject, so I asked bluntly, “How long does she have left to live?”
“Oh… well, we never speculate on that, but I’d say the end is near.”
“How near? Two weeks?”
“Maybe longer.” She informed me, “Ethel is a fighter.”
“Three?”
“Mr. Sutter. I can’t-”
“Right. I had an aunt once who-”
“You have no idea what I’ve seen here. Death is the great mystery of life, and so much depends on attitude and prayer.”
“Right. I believe that. I’ve been praying for her.” I need her house.
Mrs.