The Wisdom of Evil (3 page)

“The other doctors on your mother’s team are waiting. We
’ve reserved a room where we can all talk in private. Follow me.” Dr. Pierce held the door open for them. As they walked slowly down the hall, at the windows, they could see that the snow still fell, albeit quietly, all the wind now gone.

They
came to a large, airy room with high, vaulted ceilings, travertine floors, and strategically placed plants along the cream-colored walls. The room exuded a calming ambience.

T
here were two other doctors in the room awaiting their arrival. Introductions were quickly made and the family sat in the comfortable, light-colored linen chairs.

“This is our
cerebral injuries team,” explained Dr. Pierce. “This is Dr. Khan.” He was a very short, balding Indian man.

“And
this is Dr. Malcolm. He’s been with the cerebral injuries team the longest, over twenty years.”

Dr. Malcolm was an elderly man with short
-cropped gray hair and a full beard. He reminded Glory of an old country doctor.

When
they were all seated, Dr. Pierce looked down at the chart containing all the information on their mother before beginning to speak.

“Your mother has suffered a massive cerebral injury. She
’s had a hemorrhagic stroke. This type of stroke is less common than an ischemic stroke and more times than not is fatal. Your mother’s case is highly unusual in that more than one blood vessel has burst in her brain. The damage was devastating and irreversible.”

“
What caused this? I just talked with her two days ago!” Glory stated in shocked disbelief.

“This type of stroke is usually due to high blood pressure
stressing the artery walls until they break. In your mother’s case, all four arteries to the brain burst. As indicated by the x-ray, there is very little left of the brain itself; the blood has almost completely obliterated it.”

“What
happened, Ted? You were there!”  Glory asked.

“I heard her coughin’ in the bathroom, that’s all. When she was in there for over fifteen minutes, I opened the door and found her slumped down against the tub, unconscious. I called nine-one-one, and then tried to wake her up, but she just…wouldn’t.” Ted’s voice trailed off as if any explanation at this point really didn’t matter.

Dr. Malcolm had been listening intently
. Glory thought he was a sympathetic listener, that he understood what they going through, until he spoke in a quick, briskly officious tone.

“
Hmm. This case is certainly somewhat of a mystery. Our team would like to do an autopsy on the patient to see what caused such a massive stroke. Also, are you aware if the patient is an organ donor?” He said all this without as much as a pause in speech.

Glory
almost fell off of her chair. She was shocked, but underlying that emotion was pure and simple anger. She looked at him in an entirely different light now, no longer as a kindly old gentleman, but as some sort of ghoulish fiend. The slightly built Dr. Khan was the only one of the three who did not meet her gaze directly. Michael and Ted were stunned into silence.

“You
want to do an autopsy? She’s alive! What the hell is wrong with you people? I just found out not ten minutes ago that this is a serious condition and you’re…talking about autopsies and organ donation? And by the way, she is our
mother
and her name is
Mary
. How can you be such a cold hearted bastard and call yourself a doctor? Jesus, maybe we should move her out of this place,” Glory said, anger mingling with the heavy sadness she felt.

“M
a’am, I’m sorry, I do not mean any harm or cruelty toward your family. Perhaps I spoke a bit harshly and, for that, I apologize. That said. We have the best doctors in the world working with stroke victims here. Even so, the reality is she will never recover from this. There’s no brain activity whatsoever. We only ask about the autopsy because…well, this is a teaching hospital and our findings may help others in the future. Come; let me show you what I’m talking about.”

Room
two-fifteen no longer looked like a hospital room, but a frightening box full of strange wires and alien equipment making sinister sounds, a box they were all trapped in.

Dr. Khan opened each one of
their mother’s eyes and shone a flashlight in them. There was no dilation, no response at all.

While
they watched, her left arm twitched and, again, the blip of the monitors gave them an inch of hope.

“That
’s only an involuntary movement as Dr. Pierce explained earlier. I’m sorry to have to bring the point home. She’s completely brain dead. Her heart is still beating and the machines are breathing for her, but she will never come out of this coma. Never. Look, I know this is hard for you, but you need to think about turning the machines off and…letting her go.”

“We can’t do that! We
won’t
do that!” Ted shouted. “How can we even consider this? Her heartbeat is strong. I refuse to sign anything, no pull the plug, no autopsy, and whatever other fuckin’ paperwork you educated idiots want us to sign!” Tears were gathered at the bottom lids of his eyes. His face was red with frustration, raging at the unfairness of it, his mind struggling to deny what he knew to be true. He looked to Glory. “What do you think we should do?” he asked.

Standing
next to her husband, the tears flowed freely but quietly down her cheeks. Making no effort to wipe them away, she leaned up against Michael for support. Her whole body was shaking; her legs felt as if they would give way at any moment.

She
felt cold, numb. As the eldest child, she was deemed the heart and soul of this family by everyone. Why she had such a place in this family, she didn’t know. After all, she kept others at a distance, but they seemed not to notice or care.

Even Michael often de
ferred to her when it came to matters of the heart, apparently seeing something in her that she was unable to perceive in herself.

C
hapter 3

Michael was a tough guy, yet he always melted in his wife’s presence. He was a good man; a kind man, and to Glory, he was the most loving man she’d ever known. Somehow, she hadn’t repeated the familiar pattern, ending up with a man like her father, which was often the case in those who’d grown up in abusive homes.

She
took a deep breath and told the doctors they would need to think about it and let them know their decision. She could see the relief on Ted’s face.

“
I want another opinion from a doctor not from this hospital. Then, if need be, we will sign the paperwork to terminate her life. I cannot do that at this point, not if there is even a slim chance she could…recover.”

“As I explained, there is a zero chance of recovery
,” Dr. Pierce said.

“
I understand what you’re sayin', but this is our
mother
you are asking us to pull the plug on. Please have another doctor here before we arrive. We want that second opinion or we won’t make any decision at all.” She left the doctors staring after her as she walked briskly from the room. She didn’t give a shit what they thought of her; she’d stood her ground and spoke up for her mother because she couldn’t do it for herself.

The family
traveled back to Maine with heavy hearts, the weight of a dreadful decision to be made even as the sleepless night was beginning to take its toll. It was now late morning; the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue; the ground spectacular with a blanket of white snow as yet untouched by oil and dirt from the roads. The beauty of it seemed surreal, as though the night before had never happened, the darkness and gloom that accompanied the blizzard, only a nightmare.

Glory
felt numb and yet a major decision was hanging over her head, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, the very pendulum of death, waiting, lurking, and she would be the one to bring it down upon her own mother. Deep down, she knew her brother would balk at any decision and she’d have to do it…and learn to live with it.

They
pulled into the long driveway, as yet unplowed. Joan opened the door before they’d even reached the stairs. A very strong and capable woman of seventy, she had a heart of gold; Glory adored her. Her face was etched with weariness and worry. Glory was sure she hadn’t slept a wink, yet she was fully dressed, and her perfect white hair combed neatly, as always. Her eyes, blue and kind, were as big as saucers as she asked what had gone on at the hospital.

The four of them sat at the dining room table as Glory
told Joan everything that had been said. She looked as shocked and disgusted as they had when Glory mentioned the autopsy and organs request. Yet, she said nothing. As long as her mother was still breathing, she would hope. Glory couldn’t accept death until it was undeniable; and even then, she struggled with it. Mickey and Olivia came out of their rooms to greet them and let them know happily that school had been cancelled due to the snow storm. Ted’s son, Sean, joined them as they went out to play in the snow.

“So, what are we going to do?”
Ted asked.

Everyone turned to look at
Glory. Again, she felt the ponderous weight of it, that she must provide the answers, she must fix it!

As the oldest child of two alcoholics, and having worked hard to not become like them,
her family, including Joan, admired her. As for her brother, he was just like them, and couldn’t really make the decision. He would leave it to her and then most likely hate her for it.

“You saw there was nothin
’ left. No brain activity. I think the choice is clear,” she said gently.

“We can’t do that! What if we take her home and care for her?” Ted exclaimed.

“Ted, that isn’t our mother any more lying on that bed. It’s just her body. She can’t see us or even…breathe on her own. There’s no quality of life at all.”

“So, you
’d just pull the plug? Just like that?” He snapped his fingers in her face.

“
Would you want to live like that? I know I wouldn’t.” Glory spoke calmly, gently, although she felt neither of those things.

“
Yeah, well, being alive is better than being dead!” Ted said defiantly.

“Ted, please, you must know
your sistah doesn’t take this decision lightly. You know how she is about…death,” Michael said.

Ted shot both she and Michael a hateful look and went outside to smoke.

“I’m so sorry, babe. I’ll be right there with yah, you know that, right?”

Joan hugged Glory and went to check on the kids.

Glory knew deep down, admit it or not, that she could not in good conscience leave her mother in a state of limbo; it was just wrong.

After a few fitful hours of sleep
, Glory, Michael and Ted left that afternoon for Boston. Joan stayed with the children. She was silently supportive, knowing that sometimes there just weren’t any words to say.

Cha
pter 4

The ride down to Boston was a lot faster this time; the plows had been out in full force, making the roads a lot less treacherous. The sun shone fully, high in the sky, and the large pine trees on each side of the highway glistened with their new white coats of snow. It was truly a spectacular day. How anyone could be dying in a hospital bed on a day like this was beyond Glory. She hated and feared hospitals almost as much as death itself.

Having nothing else to do but gaze out the window
, she couldn’t help thinking about Jack, her father-in-law’s long and futile battle with cancer.

After everything
she had been through with her own father while growing up, she’d looked to her father-in-law as if he were her own father. Theirs was a very special relationship and he was to her what a father should be.

She’d been
fortunate to have in-laws whom she adored and who treated her like their own daughter. She got from them what her parents were unable to give her.

Everyone was quiet
, each locked in their own thoughts, preparing themselves for that which lay ahead. They parked and walked through the small open courtyard to the massive glass sliding doors that were the entrance way to Massachusetts General Hospital.

Glory felt ill as soon as the
doors swooshed open. She had a sensation as if not only the doors themselves had opened, but that her heart itself was being violently torn open, ripping through her hard barrier of detachment.

They
took the elevator up and checked in at the nurse’s station before proceeding to room two-fifteen. The door was closed. Ted lightly tapped on the door and a voice ushered them in. Dr. Pierce was there, as well as a woman they’d never seen before.

She instantly offered her hand to
Glory and Ted. It was warm and soft. Introducing herself as Dr. Susan Pleschette, she explained that she was from a neighboring Boston hospital and had been brought in for a second opinion as requested. She was approximately five feet tall and very slender with short, stylish black hair and small, inset brown eyes above a small nose and wide mouth. Glory liked her at once.

As they stood
around their mother’s bed, listening to Dr. Pleschette inform them of her condition, their worst fears became reality. Her words, although spoken with genuine compassion and empathy, were straight to the point.

“I know how hard this is
, believe me. I’ve been there myself, but I do have to concur with my colleagues on this. I’m so sorry. There really is no chance of recovery. The kindest thing you can do for your mother is to…let her go. I assure you she’s not in any pain right now and we can see to it that her passing will be peaceful.”

Reluctantly accepting
that this was going to happen no matter how Glory felt about it, she asked how it would be done.

“All
tubes will be removed and we’ll take her off life support. We’ll administer morphine intravenously to bring your mother’s heart rate down until…it stops.”

“Are you absolutely
sure
there’s not a chance at all because if there is even a
one
percent chance of her comin’ out of this, I can’t sign that paper. I feel like this is murder. I can’t do it!” Ted put his head in his hands and sobbed.

Glory knew how he felt.
She reached out and held her mother’s hand and didn’t let go.

“There
’s no hope of recovery. If there was even a
remote
chance, we wouldn’t ask you to do this. It’s one of the hardest decisions one is ever faced with. If it helps you any, let me just say that it’s the humane thing to do. You choose this
because
you love her.”

“Get the paperwork ready and I will sign it
,” Glory said quickly.

Ted looked up at
her miserably. She knew he was thinking he’d failed both her and her mother by not being able to do what had to be done.

Glory
assured him that it was all right. Death was the scariest thing in the world to her, but she’d see to it that the right thing was done, or at least what she thought was the right thing. The guilt of such a decision would surely show its face later.

“
Michael, would you please go down to the gift shop and see if they have red roses? We need six of them, one for each of us and one for each of the children,” she said, her voice showing a strength she did not feel.

D
octors Pierce and Pleschette wordlessly handed her the paperwork and pen and she quickly signed her name to them, hesitating only once at the last of the consent forms where the ominous word “Autopsy” was printed on the top of the page.

Their eyes locked as Glory handed back the signed paperwork
back to Dr. Pleschette and the doctor thanked her.

All hospital personnel left the room just as Michael returned with the roses.
Glory gave Ted two, one for him and his son Sean, and Michael and Glory split the remaining four.

As if they were
witnesses to an execution, they stood somber and silent. The door opened and very quietly, the nurse and Dr. Pierce and Pleschette came into the room and went to work.

The tube was removed from
Mary’s throat, the machine that made the tell-tale hissing noise; the one that was, quite literally, breathing for her was switched off. The morphine IV was put in place. The only monitors that remained on were that which measured heartbeat and blood pressure.

When all was in place, the medical staff
bowed their heads in respect and left them to say their final goodbyes.

Glory
held her mother’s hand, her eyes fixated on the monitors, waiting for the numbers to begin their descent.  She and Ted put their hands over their mother’s heart, watching as the numbers on the monitor that displayed blood pressure slipped down slowly at first, then more rapidly. The heart monitor, erratic at first, slipped into its final rhythm until it went flat, and that was all there was to it.

They
lay the six roses, symbolizing each member of the family, over her heart, stunned by what they’d just gone through in such a short time. It was as if someone had just flipped off a light switch and she was gone.

For one last time,
Glory looked at the clock on the wall; time of death, two-thirty-three p.m. She made a mental note of the date, another dreaded date on the calendar of her life: February tenth, two-thousand and one.

Out
of the corner of her eye, she detected movement above her mother’s chest
. It can’t be!
She thought. A vaporous stream of pale gray/black smoke was rising from her! It broke apart, fragmented, before becoming whole again, heading toward the window. Was this…her soul?

Glory gasped as she looked upon this supernatural smoke and saw a face swirling about in the mass
. A grinning face. The face of the Grim Reaper himself! His eyes nothing but black holes, his skeletal face locked in a smile that could only be described as malicious! This was no soul! She recognized that face from the shadows of her youth, never fully visible, not like this! This was the evil of death, the evil Glory had always believed in! She backed up hurriedly, losing her balance. Michael caught her before she fell.

“Glory? Are you…okay?”

“Do you see it? The smoke and the face of…death itself!” She pointed at the window where the preternatural smoke and figure were now dissipating.

“There’s nothin’ there,” Michael said kindly.

“Ted? Don’t you see it?”

He
shook his head, no. He hadn’t uttered so much as a syllable since their mother had drawn her final breath.

The figure
wavered and changed into a straight line of the blackest smoke Glory had ever seen. Finally, it passed through the pane of glass effortlessly and dissipated in the air outside until it was gone.

She saw no soul leaving the body at the time of death, no sign of God or anything else to hold onto for strength. Her mother’s journey, made either alone or with the
Reaper himself, brought her no comfort. She didn’t know which was worse; taking that final journey alone or with that
thing
she’d seen. No one else had seen it.

“C’mon,
let the nurses do what they have to. Let’s…go home.” Michael put his arm around her waist and took her from the room, slowly. Her legs felt like lead.

So, this was what actually happened at the time of death? She’d lost her dad and Michael
, his, but neither had been there at the precise moment when death occurred.

Dying, a natural
occurrence? No, it was something to be feared!
Thought Glory, desperately wishing she could somehow find a way out of that last voyage. For most people, witnessing someone die was the only truly supernatural occurrence they’d ever see. Death was an unknown entity; thereby, it was supernatural.

The next
day, funeral arrangements needed to be made, family notified, and paperwork completed. The whole ritual gave the impression that it was meant to desensitize one from unbearable loss and grief. To keep death neat and clean and in its proper place, but for Glory, she couldn’t accept death as a part of life and, therefore, could find no place for it.

The funeral directors were
kind and helpful. Thank God; neither Glory nor her brother had ever planned a funeral—not that Ted was of much help. Clothes had to be chosen for burial and Ted simply couldn’t do it, so Glory and Michael did it.

Unable to find anything she deemed perfect, she bought a dress for her
and a pair of amethyst-colored earrings intricately cut into small butterflies, along with a matching necklace. It was the last gift from daughter to mother.

Her
mother’s life had been one of many hardships. She’d loved butterflies, perhaps because they represented the splendor of freedom, which which she never had in life. What better way to send her to her eternal rest than on the delicate wings of butterflies? While Glory had her doubts about God and Heaven, her mother had been a faithful believer throughout her life.

As
Glory continued to go through her mother’s things, her heart was breaking as it dawned on her just how little she had. She took the mother of pearl rosary beads, which she would give to the undertaker to place in her mother’s hands.

She lovingly ran her fingers
across the statue of the Madonna and child; brought over from Italy by her grandparents who were dead and buried long before she was ever born. The intricately carved, Italian porcelain statue had been in her mother’s bedroom since she was a little girl.

A memory flashed in her mind of her
mother reverently placing the rosary beads around the delicate neck of the Madonna on the day President Kennedy had been killed. He’d been Catholic, after all, the same as they. He was the first and only Catholic ever to hold the position of President of the United States.

She carefully wrapped the statue and she and Michael left
, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Michael said nothing
.

During their search through her mother’s papers, she never located a life insurance policy. She asked Ted about it.

“She doesn’t have any.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“
What? The funeral will cost at least six thousand dollars!” Glory yelled. “How the hell are we gonna pay for this?”

“I don’t know. I have no money, you know that.”

“So, it’ll be Michael and I who pay for everything? What about the house?”

“
It has two mortgages on it now; they exceed the value of the house.”

“How the hell did
that happen?”

“You know
she’s been helpin’ me and Sean since I lost the business. The money is just… gone.”

Glory
was so mad, she was speechless. She left the room and called the funeral director. After an hour of going over alternatives to a traditional Roman Catholic funeral, they were able to agree on an inexpensive but still tasteful service.

“The funeral director is going to let us rent the casket
for the viewing and the mass at Saint Mary’s. She’ll be cremated and the urn will be buried alongside Dad.” The idea of a rented casket made Glory’s skin crawl; but she saw no other choice.

“What
…are you
crazy
? We can’t cremate her. She wouldn’t want that! We’re Catholic for Chrissakes!” Ted exclaimed.

“I know, Ted
… but I can’t afford that kind of money right now and you can’t help us.” She really didn’t need Ted’s drama right now. Her own guilt about cremating her mother was hard enough.

He glared at
her and Michael, who stood beside her, quietly giving her the strength to deal with her family, just as he’d always done. Ted stomped out of the room, slamming the front door as he left.

Later, he
showed up an hour late for the wake at the funeral home and he’d been drinking…a lot. He looked at Glory defiantly, waiting for her to say something about it. She didn’t. If he didn’t know how disrespectful his actions were, there was no need to tell him. He was still angry with her about the decision to cremate, although he hadn’t even bought so much as flowers for the service!