Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2001-05-26 - 8:10 p.m.

Three Stories

Curtain One

He fell over the ladder when he was pruning his apple trees. Puttering, he calls it. He's mad at himself. A man ninety shouldn't be pruning his own apple trees. Now he's hurt his back, and cut up his hand on something. They will stitch the hand.

He drove himself in, but they ask him if they can call someone to come get him. They've given him some pain medication for his back, and they don't think he should drive today.

Has he had a tetanus shot in the past ten years? He's not sure. He doesn't think so. Has he been injured, or had any stitches for any reason in the past ten years? No, he hasn't. All right then, they will give him the tetanus shot. Then it will be good for the next ten years.

He laughs. I won't be around another ten years, he tells them.

Curtain Three

He's eighty-two. His stomach hurts, and he has bad diarrhea. Had it all night long. He's not feeling so great. His son is with him.

The conversation is hard to hear, because this man is not deaf. He and the doctor speak in low tones. No, he has no health problems. No, he takes no medication. Yes, he remembers what he ate last night: a few slices of rare tri-tip.

He has had surgery in the past - he had a vasectomy, about twelve years ago. At age seventy.

Curtain Two

He has Alzheimer's. Now he may have had a stroke, and the doctor says he has hepatitis, although no one seems to know why. He is not very responsive. She prods his shoulder; "Dad, Dad." He doesn't open his eyes.

She is there as his advocate. Don't let him hurt, but don't make him live. She is there to say no. No surgery. No more needle sticks. No more, now.

She says no. She reads magazines and holds his hand while he dozes. She thinks about a shower. She listens to conversations on the other side of the curtain, and she thinks: Why. Why.

He is seventy-five.

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