them?”
“Them?”
“Your ‘rents?”
“At least my mom and dad have done something with their lives. You and me, girlfriend, we were heading for the big crash. I’m out of that life, and I’m staying out.”
Just then, Carleton Dix arrived. “Go in, Kelly. I’ll join you in a minute.”
He turned to Sarah. “I know you’re not exactly stoked being here, but why not give it a try?”
Stoked? Sarah thought. Who’s he kidding?
“I’m not into this, but to make peace, I’ll sit in just this one time.”
“Sit in. Don’t sit in. It’s all up to you.”
“I don’t like anyone preaching to me, chaplain...is that what I should call you?”
“That’s okay or reverend or Carleton, and I don’t preach here, I moderate. The girls do the talking, that is those who have the guts to do so. If you want preaching, I can send you to any number of churches.”
Afterward, Kelly approached Sarah. “What do you think?”
“Lame...it sounded pretty lame to me. I got enough problems without listening to a bunch of whining preps.”
“Come on, Sarah. It wasn’t so bad. At least they speak a language you can understand, and don’t tell me their problems are totally foreign to you. Why don’t you come over for a while. We can catch up.”
“Sorry, Kelly. I got a date.”
Chapter Twelve
Nothing prepared P.J., Julie, or their girls for the reality of ALS.
Six months after fighting it with all his strength, P.J. found himself confined to a wheelchair. The family sat at the dinner table with a roast chicken in the center.
It smells great, P.J. thought as he looked down at his bowl filled with an unidentifiable gruel. Pureed and soft foods were all he could handle.
He reached for the plastic cup of orange juice, raised it with difficulty to his lips with trembling hands and sipped. He choked and coughed as fluid entered his windpipe and his lungs.
P.J. reddened as tears streaked down his face. He continued to cough, then shook his head. “Get me out of here, Julie. I can’t stand this.”
His weight declined from 160 to 130 lbs. Speaking had become more problematic, an especially difficult loss as the house was always full of strong vibrant voices. Julie pushed the wheelchair into the family room.
“Please sit with me, Julie, I need to talk with you while I can.”
“Of course,” she replied sitting next to him on the sofa. She watched the movement of his mouth as he tried to control his speech and saw the twitching, the fasciculations, on his tongue.
“You must make me a promise.”
“Anything.”
“When I reach the end...when they say, if we don’t put him on the ventilator, he’ll die, I want you to say no, and I want you to say no to resuscitation. I want a DNR, Do Not Resuscitate order in my medical records.”
Julie placed her hand across her mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You don’t have to worry. You’ve signed all the documents, the living will and the advanced directive for medical care. That should do it.”
“That doesn’t mean shit, Julie,” he choked over the words. “In the end, the hospital and Jacob will accede to your wishes. I want your promise.”
“I don’t know if I can...”
“Julie...it’s what I want. Let me die in peace. It’s bad enough for the girls to see me this way, let’s not make it worse.”
“What about the hospital? At some point, you’ll need to be admitted...we may not be able to take care...”
“No, that’s fine. I understand. It’s a miracle you’ve done so much.”
“I can only think of one miracle, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
Julie Manning hugged Jacob as he arrived after office hours to visit. “You don’t have to do this. I feel guilty taking up so much of your time.”
Jacob came three to four times each week, staying long enough to see how P.J. was doing and offering support and grandfatherly wisdom.
“Time...time? Let me introduce myself to you, Jacob Weizman, P.J.’s
“Them?”
“Your ‘rents?”
“At least my mom and dad have done something with their lives. You and me, girlfriend, we were heading for the big crash. I’m out of that life, and I’m staying out.”
Just then, Carleton Dix arrived. “Go in, Kelly. I’ll join you in a minute.”
He turned to Sarah. “I know you’re not exactly stoked being here, but why not give it a try?”
Stoked? Sarah thought. Who’s he kidding?
“I’m not into this, but to make peace, I’ll sit in just this one time.”
“Sit in. Don’t sit in. It’s all up to you.”
“I don’t like anyone preaching to me, chaplain...is that what I should call you?”
“That’s okay or reverend or Carleton, and I don’t preach here, I moderate. The girls do the talking, that is those who have the guts to do so. If you want preaching, I can send you to any number of churches.”
Afterward, Kelly approached Sarah. “What do you think?”
“Lame...it sounded pretty lame to me. I got enough problems without listening to a bunch of whining preps.”
“Come on, Sarah. It wasn’t so bad. At least they speak a language you can understand, and don’t tell me their problems are totally foreign to you. Why don’t you come over for a while. We can catch up.”
“Sorry, Kelly. I got a date.”
Chapter Twelve
Nothing prepared P.J., Julie, or their girls for the reality of ALS.
Six months after fighting it with all his strength, P.J. found himself confined to a wheelchair. The family sat at the dinner table with a roast chicken in the center.
It smells great, P.J. thought as he looked down at his bowl filled with an unidentifiable gruel. Pureed and soft foods were all he could handle.
He reached for the plastic cup of orange juice, raised it with difficulty to his lips with trembling hands and sipped. He choked and coughed as fluid entered his windpipe and his lungs.
P.J. reddened as tears streaked down his face. He continued to cough, then shook his head. “Get me out of here, Julie. I can’t stand this.”
His weight declined from 160 to 130 lbs. Speaking had become more problematic, an especially difficult loss as the house was always full of strong vibrant voices. Julie pushed the wheelchair into the family room.
“Please sit with me, Julie, I need to talk with you while I can.”
“Of course,” she replied sitting next to him on the sofa. She watched the movement of his mouth as he tried to control his speech and saw the twitching, the fasciculations, on his tongue.
“You must make me a promise.”
“Anything.”
“When I reach the end...when they say, if we don’t put him on the ventilator, he’ll die, I want you to say no, and I want you to say no to resuscitation. I want a DNR, Do Not Resuscitate order in my medical records.”
Julie placed her hand across her mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You don’t have to worry. You’ve signed all the documents, the living will and the advanced directive for medical care. That should do it.”
“That doesn’t mean shit, Julie,” he choked over the words. “In the end, the hospital and Jacob will accede to your wishes. I want your promise.”
“I don’t know if I can...”
“Julie...it’s what I want. Let me die in peace. It’s bad enough for the girls to see me this way, let’s not make it worse.”
“What about the hospital? At some point, you’ll need to be admitted...we may not be able to take care...”
“No, that’s fine. I understand. It’s a miracle you’ve done so much.”
“I can only think of one miracle, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
Julie Manning hugged Jacob as he arrived after office hours to visit. “You don’t have to do this. I feel guilty taking up so much of your time.”
Jacob came three to four times each week, staying long enough to see how P.J. was doing and offering support and grandfatherly wisdom.
“Time...time? Let me introduce myself to you, Jacob Weizman, P.J.’s
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