Read Online Recessional: A Novel by James A. Michener - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James A. Michener
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knowing nothing, not even aware that her husband is gone. Then one day, far down the road, she quietly dies, having known nothing for many years.” He paused, looked out the window, and said: “When you work with Alzheimer families you learn what love is, what terror can be, and what nothingness in life in certain forms can mean.”
“The people involved must from time to time think of euthanasia.”
“Not in this establishment. It’s a forbidden word.” His voice became stern: “You must understand, Doctor, that the Alzheimer folks are still alive. There’s no reason why their life should be terminated simply because they no longer have a functioning brain. Do you exterminate a diabetic because he’s lost a leg? Or even two legs?”
At the mention of lost legs, Zorn suddenly felt faint, overwhelmed by the memory of a bloody scene and of himself kneeling down to recover the legs of the stricken girl who would never use those legsagain. Hastily putting out his hand to steady himself, he looked out the window as Krenek asked: “Are you all right, Doctor?”
“Yes….I was wondering what you call those red bushes we saw as we came along the drive. The ones down there.”
“I’ve been told half a dozen times, but I forget—we should have asked Ms. Oliphant. I’m going to call her now and write down what she tells me. Visitors often ask.” He placed the call from a phone near the entrance to the dining room: “Laura, I should have asked when we were with you. What’s the name again of that red-budded bush along our entrance? Yes, I knew it was Brazilian something. Brazilian pepper tree, and you say it’s a pest? Outlawed by the state? You cannot plant it in your garden or any public place. On our land it looks great.”
When he hung up he said: “Well, you heard. It’s the Brazilian pepper tree,” but Zorn had not heard, nor did he hear now. Painfully, he was remembering a beautiful girl in her early twenties who had fainted in his arms, and he felt a tremendous desire to fly back to Chattanooga to see how she was progressing. Thinking of Dr. Zembright’s wise counsel about staying clear lest lawsuits by initiated, he banished the fleeting thought, but he did offer a fervent prayer: “God, give her the courage to battle it through,” and he wondered if she’d be able to use the amazingly effective modern prosthetics.
As they left Assisted Living to walk up to the top floor, Krenek said: “New staff frequently make the joke: ‘Second floor’s Assisted Living, third floor’s Assisted Dying,’ but we forbid such levity. We don’t allow the word
hospice
, either.”
“Yes,” Zorn replied. “I know it’s called Extended Care. But extended to the point of death?”
“Yes.” As they came into the sunny and immaculate hall with its colorful wallpaper, comfortable chairs, and little enclaves by picture windows, Krenek said: “Americans are uneasy about dying. The entire nation all the way to the Supreme Court is scared to death about the simple act of dying. We can’t define it. We can’t provide for it. We can give family members no guidance as to how to respond to it. Up here we mask it with the euphemism Extended Care as if it were hanging on to life that mattered, not the orderly passage on to death.”
“You cover a long span of human experience here in the Palms, don’t you? Full mental capacity in a person’s sixties to little or none in his or her nineties?”
“It does seem to work out that way, but some of our ninety-year-olds are still in full control.” He led the way to a broad window from which in their last days the patients could see a handsome spread of nature: “The row of palm trees that impressed you so much, the channel with the lively boats passing back and forth and that magnificent stretch of savanna. You could be at an oasis in Africa.”
“Savanna?”
“Yes. I believe that’s the scientific name for extended grassland that contains a scattering of low
“The people involved must from time to time think of euthanasia.”
“Not in this establishment. It’s a forbidden word.” His voice became stern: “You must understand, Doctor, that the Alzheimer folks are still alive. There’s no reason why their life should be terminated simply because they no longer have a functioning brain. Do you exterminate a diabetic because he’s lost a leg? Or even two legs?”
At the mention of lost legs, Zorn suddenly felt faint, overwhelmed by the memory of a bloody scene and of himself kneeling down to recover the legs of the stricken girl who would never use those legsagain. Hastily putting out his hand to steady himself, he looked out the window as Krenek asked: “Are you all right, Doctor?”
“Yes….I was wondering what you call those red bushes we saw as we came along the drive. The ones down there.”
“I’ve been told half a dozen times, but I forget—we should have asked Ms. Oliphant. I’m going to call her now and write down what she tells me. Visitors often ask.” He placed the call from a phone near the entrance to the dining room: “Laura, I should have asked when we were with you. What’s the name again of that red-budded bush along our entrance? Yes, I knew it was Brazilian something. Brazilian pepper tree, and you say it’s a pest? Outlawed by the state? You cannot plant it in your garden or any public place. On our land it looks great.”
When he hung up he said: “Well, you heard. It’s the Brazilian pepper tree,” but Zorn had not heard, nor did he hear now. Painfully, he was remembering a beautiful girl in her early twenties who had fainted in his arms, and he felt a tremendous desire to fly back to Chattanooga to see how she was progressing. Thinking of Dr. Zembright’s wise counsel about staying clear lest lawsuits by initiated, he banished the fleeting thought, but he did offer a fervent prayer: “God, give her the courage to battle it through,” and he wondered if she’d be able to use the amazingly effective modern prosthetics.
As they left Assisted Living to walk up to the top floor, Krenek said: “New staff frequently make the joke: ‘Second floor’s Assisted Living, third floor’s Assisted Dying,’ but we forbid such levity. We don’t allow the word
hospice
, either.”
“Yes,” Zorn replied. “I know it’s called Extended Care. But extended to the point of death?”
“Yes.” As they came into the sunny and immaculate hall with its colorful wallpaper, comfortable chairs, and little enclaves by picture windows, Krenek said: “Americans are uneasy about dying. The entire nation all the way to the Supreme Court is scared to death about the simple act of dying. We can’t define it. We can’t provide for it. We can give family members no guidance as to how to respond to it. Up here we mask it with the euphemism Extended Care as if it were hanging on to life that mattered, not the orderly passage on to death.”
“You cover a long span of human experience here in the Palms, don’t you? Full mental capacity in a person’s sixties to little or none in his or her nineties?”
“It does seem to work out that way, but some of our ninety-year-olds are still in full control.” He led the way to a broad window from which in their last days the patients could see a handsome spread of nature: “The row of palm trees that impressed you so much, the channel with the lively boats passing back and forth and that magnificent stretch of savanna. You could be at an oasis in Africa.”
“Savanna?”
“Yes. I believe that’s the scientific name for extended grassland that contains a scattering of low
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