The Loving Arms Facility agreed to take Ellen, but they could not admit her until the following afternoon. They, too, asked about an advanced directive. Sullivan lied to them. He didn’t know if he could pull it off, but he was damn sure going to try. Once he got her settled in the new facility he would hire an attorney to file some kind of action to protect her until the whole mess could be sorted out in a court of law. Resentment that any other person, a doctor, a lawyer, or even a judge, had a legal right to decide life or death for his wife, settled over Lance.
He rushed back to the hospital to advise them Ellen would be moved the next day. His information was met with cold civility. Gone was the warmth and sympathy in which he had previously basked. Word traveled fast, he guessed, courtesy of the offended doctor and staff.
Sullivan went up to Ellen’s room and took her hand in his. Guilt crawled around inside him, guilt over his decision to blatantly disregard her wishes. But she had made her decision thinking nothing would happen to her while she was still young, he rationalized. She wouldn’t feel the same had she known she would be stricken so soon. His way was the right way.
He stroked her hand gently, pulling her slender fingers straight as he massaged them. Speaking softly, he explained that she was being moved to a new facility. As usual, he told her about little things that had happened, leaving out the unpleasantness with the doctor.
“I love you, Ellen,” he said tenderly as he watched her eyes move slightly behind their lids. Kissing her on the forehead, he left to sign the paperwork for The Loving Arms.
The next morning, Ellen was gone. The phone call he had dreaded for so long finally came, even as he was feeling hopeful about the future.
“She expired during the night,” the doctor told him when he had rushed to the hospital.
“Expired? Of what?” he had yelled. “She was fine when I left her.”
“Mr. Proctor, your wife hasn’t been fine for a long time,” the doctor said patiently. “While I, and the staff, sympathize with your loss, you have to know her passing is no surprise. We’ve tried repeatedly to warn you of this ultimate outcome. But, you wouldn’t accept the truth. Of course, I have ordered an autopsy.”
Of course it wouldn’t be a surprise to someone who engineered the event, Sullivan thought suspiciously. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he tore at himself with unspoken questions. How did it go down? A nurse with a hypodermic full of air? An orderly with a pillow over the face? An accidental overdose of one medication or another? Sullivan would never know and it didn’t matter anyway at this point. She was gone and nothing would bring her back.
Alone, after the funeral, numbness settled over him. All the tears had been cried; it seemed he had been crying for such a long time. Something inside him now shut down. He rejected all expressions of sympathy, all offers of companionship, even those from his two closest friends. Work and home, that was his life. Soon, people began giving him the space he was looking for and left him alone.
As he finished this part of his tale, he became aware of Brook’s hand on his.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Looking into her bruised face, he saw heartfelt sympathy. Something inside him melted, something that had been cold and hard for a very long time.
“It’s horrible, what happened to you. Heartbreaking.” She lightly patted the back of his hand. Then, she became self-conscious. Moving her hand away from his, she took a sip from her mug before continuing. “So, Ellen had different views on death than you did." Her warm response encouraged him to continue.
Lance nodded. He found himself in the memory of a disagreement he and Ellen had had. It was one of the worst arguments in the history of their marriage. It started in their lawyer’s office, continued on the sidewalk and in the car, and lingered after they had returned home. Sullivan had scheduled the appointment with the attorney to have wills drawn up, since they had reached the decision to start a family.
“Now that we have the wills drafted,” the attorney said, “we should discuss advanced directives. Living wills, powers of attorney, things along that line.”
“What exactly is a living will?” Ellen asked. The attorney explained that living wills are documents that express end-of-life preferences, decisions about accepting or rejecting procedures that will prolong life in the event of a serious illness or accident. Ellen shocked Sully by agreeing with the concept.
“I definitely want one,” Ellen stated. “I don’t want to be kept alive if I’m too sick to ever recover.”
“What do you mean?” Sullivan was bewildered. “Where there is life, there is always hope. You’d want them to pull the plug on you?”
“Well, you don’t have to put it that way.” Ellen’s eyes flashed with the beginnings of annoyance. “Why would I want to lay there and suffer if I’m not going to get well?”
“How would you know whether you’d get well or not?” Sullivan persisted. “That should be in the hands of God, not a decision for some doctor to make. A doctor should do everything humanly possible to save someone’s life! Everything!”
“It’s my decision.” Ellen was adamant. “If I’m ever that sick, then it’s already in God’s hands. Without interference from a doctor, I’d die anyway.”
Sully was equally stubborn. “A doctor is an extension of God’s hands.” His voice rose. “A doctor should use his God-given skills to save life, not take it away! This whole subject is morbid. It’s creepy.”
“If anything is creepy, it’s the idea of keeping a body alive when the brain is dead! A doctor’s job is to alleviate suffering, not prolong it,” Ellen shot back. “A doctor is not God and shouldn’t be playing God with people’s lives!”
The lawyer looked uncomfortable.
“Maybe the two of you should spend some time talking this over before we proceed,” he advised.
“I don’t need to talk it over,” Sullivan retorted. “Do you have some kind of document that’s the opposite of a living will? Something that says a hospital can’t withdraw life support?”
“We can draft something that expresses your desire to be maintained, not to have fluids and nutrition withdrawn,” the attorney answered. “It is no guarantee, but it does give medical personnel and your family a guide to your wishes, in the event you are no longer able to make these types of decisions for yourself.”
“Fine.” Sullivan’s tone was clipped, his lips tight against his teeth. “That’s what we want, then. Draft up a couple of those.”
“How dare you! You will not choose for me!” Ellen exploded. “You’re acting like an arrogant controlling bastard.”
“Ellen!” Sullivan’s face was contorted. “I love you. I’m not trying to control you, dammit. I just can’t face the idea of losing you.”
“I want a living will.” Ellen directed her comment at the attorney. “Give him whatever he wants, but I don’t want to be kept alive like some kind of monster in a horror movie strapped to a bunch of machines.”
“I’m out of here.” Sullivan snatched his jacket from the back of the chair. “You know what I want. Write mine up so nobody can kill me just because I might become inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient!” Ellen was outraged. Sullivan stormed out of the law office with Ellen on his heels. “You think I would make that kind of decision based on convenience?” She was shaking with fury.