Talking With MJ: Part One

 

Shortly after moving into my new home, as in two hours, a note appeared taped to the door. It went something like this:

Hi Neighbor!

We noticed you just moved in.” (I guess the PODS gave it away.) We saw that you had children, and we have a fishpond and dogs that like to play so they are welcome to come over anytime. If you need anything, just give us a knock on the door and Bob will come over. He does not work and is home all the time.

MJ and Bob

Now at first glance, one would immediately go to the internet and Google predator, but I knew what was going on. I put it together immediately. They were missing their grandkids, and there were not many kids on this end of the block.

I decided to go over and introduce the family. Mary Jane and Robert, aka MJ and Bob were a lovely older couple from Maine. They had transferred with MJ’s job and had left behind seven grandchildren.

Our friendship quickly developed. I would send the kids over to help feed the fish. Bob would trim my bushes or mow the grass, things that neighbors did for each other. Anytime MJ went out of town for her work, she always brought something back for us.

It was interesting speaking with them. It was almost like; no it was like, having a separate conversation with both of them at the same time. They talked over each other or repeated exactly what the other one said. I had found out that they had been married when MJ was seventeen and Bob was twenty-one. They also had four children and MJ had gotten her master’s degree when the youngest was in high school. They loved living in the warm weather, and planned to retire here.

Then MJ got sick. She got better and then got sick again, and again, and again. Each time she went into the hospital, I took care of the house, picked up the mail, feed the dogs, so that Bob could be with her. Each time she got sick, she got worse. Each time she got worse, so did Bob. He was trying to take care of her and himself. Bob had cancer. It was out of remission. Now, they were both ill.

One night, there was a frantic knock at the door.  It was Bob; he was not making any sense but wanted me to come over. He needed help with MJ, so I went with him. What I saw, was shocking.

MJ was slouched in her wheelchair, and incoherent.  From a guess, I would say she was down to about 80 lbs. Her eyes, devoid of any color, were rolled back inside her head. If you said her name, she would respond and look at you, so I knew she was there somewhere. Bob wanted to move her into the bed. Another friend, Fran was also there to help.

“Bob, how long has she been like this?” I asked as gently as I could.

“Since I gave her, her medications,” his voice was as tired as his face.

“Bob, how much sleep have you had?”

“Not much.”

“Bob, something is wrong, I think we should call an ambulance, just to check it out.”

“That is what I’ve been trying to tell him,” chimes Fran.

Bob shakes his head no, “I’ll take her to the doctor in the morning.”

We get MJ in the bed. Her breathing was becoming shallow and I could tell she was struggling just to breath. I take one more swing at Bob to get him to call the ambulance. He is insistent that we not call.

There is one thing I know I do well, I can think on my feet, especially if the pressure is on. The other thing I knew at that moment was that if we waited until morning, there would be no need for the doctor.

Fran and Bob left the room, why I am unsure, but I saw my chance. I made a beeline for the phone.

“911, what is your emergency?”

I proceed to give the operator as much information as I could off the chart next to the bed, while trying to keep MJ engaged. I would say her name to get her to respond, telling her to hang on and that help was on the way. The operator starts giving me instructions as she dispatched an ambulance.

They say you can see the light leaving someone’s eyes at the brink of their death. I do not know if that is what I saw, but the color of MJ’s iris had completely disappeared. I have witnessed someone who has died. I have witnessed someone on the brink of dying. I can tell you the latter is much worse.

Bob and Fran come back in the room. Fran looked at me with bewilderment. Bob did not know what to say. I knew at that point, I was the person in charge.

“Bob, go put the dogs out, the ambulance will be here soon,” I calmly informed him.

“Fran, please go to the door and wait for them.”

Both left. I was still on the phone with the 911 operator, talking to MJ. I heard the ambulance siren and disconnect the call. I stepped out of the way and let the paramedics take over.

As they packed up MJ, Bob turned to me with tears in his eyes.

He tried to speak but couldn't.

“Bob, I’ll take care of things, go be with MJ,” I told him and watched as he walked out the door to follow the ambulance.

For the night, I was through talking with MJ.

Reviews

[Creepy Swine Guy]

When you write about people, there is something about the way you write that reminds me of Mitch Albom. You get to the people. to the things inside of them that make them people and that make us want to care. This is absolutely heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time. You see people and you write what you see exquisitely.