Behind the Puppet Master

Disoriented

The steady sound of all the machines beep rhythmically, keeping my dad alive- if that even counts as being alive. I stare at the yellow hue of his jaundiced skin, reminding me that his liver is shutting down. My cheeks are raw from sobbing for hours, and my chest hurts from who knows what. Heartbreak? The force of how hard I’ve been sobbing? The sense of betrayal? Overcome with sadness, and regret, I hold onto his hand tightly, furious that he let himself go through this alone, furious at myself for not seeing the signs. My mind keeps replaying my earlier conversation with Dr. Montgomery over and over again, torturing me. 

“What do you mean he’s dying?!” I screech, “How did this happen?!”

“The treatments stopped working,” Dr. Montgomery starts, apologetically, “The cancer was far more aggressive than we anticipated. When your father first came in six months ago, we treated him to the best of our ability, but now he’s no longer responsive to the treatments.”

“Cancer? No. No! There’s just no way- you’re- you’re wrong, it can’t be!” my voice begins to break as tears flood my eyes. 

She raises her eyebrows, “he didn’t tell you, did he?”

I shake my head as I start sobbing into my hands, covering my face. I know that she’s telling the truth; I saw it all with my mom already. “Ar- Are you su-sure there’s noth- nothing left to- to do?” I attempt to choke out between my sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder trying to comfort me, “we’ve done everything we can. His pancreatic cancer has metastasized to the liver, causing it to fail. There is nothing else that we can do. We can continue to keep him on life support, or you need to make the difficult decision to take him off of it. If you choose the latter, we will make him as comfortable as possible.”

“I just don’t understand, there has to be something else you can do?” I beg her.

She opens her mouth to start saying something, but that’s when my dad suddenly crashes. I scream, overwrought with emotions as I begin sobbing. A code blue is called and I’m forced out of the room by nurses as they resuscitate him. Just before they close the blinds, I catch a glimpse of them shocking him with a defibrillator. 

After replaying that conversation in my head for the twentieth time today, I hold my dad’s hand even tighter, bawling so hard that my chest hurts even more. How am I supposed to decide to let him go? I can’t bear to see him suffer like this, but I’m not ready to say goodbye. My cheeks are burning red from the salt in my tears, and my eyes are swollen from crying so much. Every moment that passes, I keep wishing I’d wake up and this would all be an awful nightmare.

The minutes crawl by like years as I sit in this hospital chair, knowing the difficult decision that has to be made. I hate everything about being in this room: the overwhelming smell of the assorted flowers, the constant beeping of the machines, the coldness of the room, even to the lighting in the room. I hate it all. It takes everything in me to not chuck a vase of flowers at the wall. 

A knock on the door echoes in the room. The knocking continues a few more times before I hear someone open the door. “Alina?” I hear a man’s voice call out. I’d answer him, but I’ve lost the will to speak. I’m so numb inside, I feel like I’m dissociating. The footsteps of the man echoes as he comes into the room. I sniffle as I try to choke down the rush of tears coming into my eyes again. His hand touches my shoulder and I don’t react, knowing it’s the hand of William. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through,” he says with a tone of heartbreak in his voice, “if there is ever anything you need, please let me know.” 

I swallow the huge lump that has formed in my throat, before I ask, through gritted teeth, “did you know he was sick?”

“Yes,” he answers with a sigh, and apologetically adds, “I tried to convince him to tell you, but it was not my place to personally inform you.”

I clench my fist in anger, as the rush of tears flood down my cheeks again. I lay my head on his bed, sobbing hysterically. William squeezes my shoulder tightly, not knowing how to comfort me. He knows there’s nothing he can do or say to make me feel better right now. He has yet another bouquet of flowers delivered, before rubbing my back and leaving me alone. I somehow finally notice that my jaws are hurting from gritting my teeth. I stare at the paperwork I forgot was lying on my lap; ruined by the uncontrolled amount of tear drops that have landed on its surface. I have to sign all these papers before they can legally end his suffering; with the overwhelming weight of responsibility crushing my shoulders. My hands are shaking excessively as I attempt to fill the blank spaces, my vision blurred by tears.

Alexia eventually arrives with some water and snacks. She tries to pressure me to eat something, or at least take a sip of water, but is unsuccessful. She notices the papers that are still on my lap, and takes them from me. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through,” she says as she places her hand on my thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze, “can I help you by filling out most of these papers for you? She offers.

All I can do is nod my head. She says okay and fills out what she can as I continue to sit there looking at my dad. I enclose his hand with both of mine, resting my head on our conjoined hands as I hope for a miracle. Alexia asks me to confirm parts that need my consent, and I feel more tears run down my cheeks as I answer her. A throbbing headache forms, making it hard to keep my eyes open. The sensation of a sledgehammer banging against my temple is excruciating, so I beg Alexia to let me take some aspirin. She refuses, saying I have to eat something first before she’ll allow me to take it. “The last thing you need to deal with, on top of all of this, is an empty stomach.” she says. 

I sigh, and begrudgingly eat the snacks that she gave me, just for the sweet relief of ending this splitting headache. Finally satisfied, she permits me to take some painkillers, and I down it quickly, like a drug addict waiting for their fix. She goes back to finishing up the last of the paperwork as I return to holding on to what’s left of my dad, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. I try to remember memories of happier times with my dad, finding the courage to say goodbye. Eventually, Alexia finishes the last of the paperwork, and passes the clipboard back to me to sign. I attempt to read it over, through eyes filled with tears, and try to keep it together. After confirming all the information, I grab the pen and attempt to sign my name. For weeks, I’ve signed and approved so many papers at work, but now, sitting here in this hospital room, it’s almost like I’ve forgotten how to do it. Alexia comforts me to the best of her ability, trying to give me the strength and courage to finalize the inevitable. I take a deep breath and sign my name, knowing this will end my dad’s suffering. My hands are shaking so much that my signature looks almost illegible, but it’ll have to do. I go through the rest of the papers, with each signature getting closer to losing my dad. The pen starts feeling heavier, and tears are falling onto the paper as I finish the final signature. Alexia asks me if I want her to take it from me, and all I can do is nod in answer. She tells me to press the button to call the nurses when I’m ready, and that she’ll put the papers out of sight. I nod again, unable to find the words to say anything. 

I spend a few more minutes holding onto my dad, Alexia’s hand is on my thigh trying to comfort me. I’m so thankful that she is here, but I hate that she has to see me so vulnerable. When I finally find the strength to say my final goodbye, I press the button to send for the nurses. A nurse comes in and asks if everything is okay, and I still can’t find my voice to answer her. Luckily, I don’t have to, because Alexia speaks for me, telling them that I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. The nurse says she’ll be right back with the rest of the team to proceed with the process. As she leaves, I break down again, and Alexia holds my shoulders and gives them a tender squeeze, letting me know I’m not alone. Through my sobs, I tell my dad how much I love him, and that everything is going to be okay soon. I squeeze his hand tightly, hoping that he’ll either feel me or hear my love for him. I’ll never be ready to say goodbye, but I know I have to do this for his sake. 

The nurse comes back with the rest of the team, including Dr. Montgomery, and they begin explaining the process. They give me the option to either leave the room while they remove him off life support, or I can choose to stay. They warn me that it will be extremely difficult if I choose to stay, and that if at any time I need to leave the room, I can do it. I just nod as I feel another lump form in my throat. Alexia asks me if I want her to leave, and I shake my head. The nurses then proceed to take him off of life support, and I start breaking down again, conflicted because I know I need to do this, but knowing I can’t lose him too. They administer some morphine, to make him as comfortable as possible. His body begins shaking as his brain sends signals to the rest of his body, warning that it’s running out of oxygen. I was told to expect this, but still wasn’t prepared for it. I begin sobbing again, and they administer some more medication to calm his body down. His lips begin turning blue, and I can already feel his hand getting colder. I hold onto his hand tightly, as if it will keep him here, but know that he’s almost gone.

The beeping on the EKG starts slowing down. It beeps slower, and slower until it finally comes to a flat and monotonous beep, signaling that his heart stopped beating. "Time of death: 2109." Dr. Montgomery announces. My chest goes numb, and my body freezes as it all sinks in. The unchanging beep continues to echo in my ear long after the nurses turn off the machines. My head collapses onto the bed, feeling too heavy to hold up. Too exhausted and feeling empty, I've lost the strength to cry or scream. I feel Alexia wrap her arms around me in a tight embrace, as some of her tears roll off my neck and down my back. With my one free hand, I hold onto her as I try to breathe. The team of caretakers tell us to take all the time we need to say goodbye, and they leave to give us some privacy.

I sit and mourn for what feels like an eternity. Alexia sits down next to me and comforts me to the best of her ability. A long sigh escapes my lips as I start mentally preparing for the funeral arrangements. That’s when another nurse comes in to tell us that everything is ready to go whenever I’m ready. I raise my eyebrows as I look at her, and she informs me that my father had everything arranged prior to this. My heart breaks thinking of how it must have felt for my dad to talk to the funeral director, knowing he had little time left. She adds that once I’m ready, I can call them so that they can move him down to the morgue, and they will call the funeral home to come collect him. I nod my head and she gives her condolences before leaving again. I look at Alexia and she can’t find the words to comfort me, so she just holds my hand. I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually I tell myself it’s now or never, and call the nurses in to move my dad. They bring in a stretcher and I’m asked to wait in the hall as they move his body. Alexia holds me as I quietly sob into her shoulder. After a few minutes, they roll out the stretcher, which is covered by curtains, and they disappear as they walk down the long corridors of the hospital. 

We go back into the hospital room to collect any remaining personal belongings, all the flowers, and the packet of paperwork I received from the hospital. I’ve never felt more numb in my life other than when I lost my mom. Even then, at least I had been preparing myself to say goodbye to her. Alexia tells me she’ll drive me home, and I thank her for being here for me. She nods with a smile and we head out of the hospital. On the drive back home, I can’t find the will to do anything other than stare out the window as she drives. She respectfully lets me sit there in silence as I look out into the empty night sky. I’m mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, but I’m already dreading being home alone. The hour long drive back to Malibu drags out for what feels like forever, but eventually we arrive back at my house. She pulls up front and we both walk into the quiet entrance hall. 

“Okay Cece, I’m home.” I call out.

“Welcome home, Alina.” she replies to me. The lights turn on automatically, illuminating a familiar but completely different house. I collapse to the ground and break down crying again, as the grief hits me like a brick wall. Alexia sits down by me and squeezes me in a tight embrace. She holds me for a few minutes until my tears are depleted again. Then she guides me upstairs to my room and orders me to take a shower. I shake my head, telling her I don’t feel like it, and she reiterates that she wasn’t asking me to. I groan in protests and all she says is, “Trust me, it will help you. Okay?”

I stare into her eyes, and there’s no strength left to refuse or argue with her. I reluctantly go to take a shower. As I’m showering, my mind keeps wandering and replaying everything that happened at the hospital. Over and over I hear Dr. Montgomery’s voice echoing in my head, “The treatments stopped working- we will make him as comfortable as possible- he stopped responding to treatments- you need to make the difficult decision-”

Somehow, more tears manage to find their way down my cheek, but it gets lost under the streams from the shower. I would give anything just to have another moment with my dad, anything just to hear his voice, or be there in his last moments. After some time passes, I eventually get out of the shower and wrap myself up in my robe. I look into the mirror, seeing my swollen red eyes and see how exhausted I am. With a sorrow-filled sigh, I head out of the bathroom to find that Alexia laid out some comfortable pajamas for me on my bed. I gratefully change into the pajamas, knowing it's one less thing to worry about, and head towards the door to head downstairs. Just as I open the door, that's when Alexia reaches the other side, holding a tray containing a light meal and water. I'm amazed at how she was able to do that with one hand bandaged. At the hospital, there was so much going on, I forgot she too was hurt.

"What's this for?" I ask, a little too oblivious, knowing the answer already. 

"Just some food and water, silly," she says and makes her way into my room, "you need to eat something before you go to bed. I also brought some painkillers for your headache, and extra water for when you inevitably get thirsty tonight." She sets the tray down on my bedside table and pats the bed, instructing me to come lay down.

Almost losing my autonomy, I find myself walking towards the bed and laying down, allowing her to take care of me. 

"I know the last thing on your mind is food, but that's why I made a light meal just for you to have something in your stomach. You'll need to take some vitamins to replenish the energy you lost from the tears. It'll make you feel better."

I don't argue with her, and only thank her as I take a bite of the food. I try my best to enjoy it, but with no appetite or will to eat it, I can't. She makes sure I eat at least half of what she made, before she hands me the vitamins and the painkillers. I take a sip of some water and thank her again for taking care of me. She tells me not to worry about it and to get some rest. She starts cleaning up and as she picks up the tray, she tells me that she'll leave me be, so I can have some time to be alone. 

She turns and starts heading towards the door. With no control, I find myself blurting out, "can you actually stay the night with me?"

She stops dead in her tracks, and turns to face me, "is- is that what you really want?" She clarifies. 

"Yes, please, I- I'm-," I struggle to finish my thought, "I don't know- I'm just scared."

She comes back, setting the tray back on the nightstand, and brushes the hair away from my face. "Of course I can."

I smile gratefully, because she didn't have to do any of this for me. She asks me if she can borrow some pajamas, or if I have anything she can change into. I tell her to pick whatever she wants, and so she heads into my closet to change. After a few minutes, she comes back; and even dressed down, she's so gorgeous. “Is it okay if I sleep next to you?” she asks.

I nod and reply, “yes, please. Thank you.”

She smiles and gets into bed with me, “is it okay if I hold you?” I ask her.

“Of course you can.” She answers, and without missing a beat, I cuddle up next to her. She holds me and suddenly, the world melts away. As if for a moment, I’m reminded that everything is going to be okay, but then reality hits and I realize that I have a long day ahead of me.