CHOICES

 

Her hands slicing through the water, arms rising above her head then over her ears, Meredith was gliding across a calm pool. It was only a six stroke pool, but she willingly swam twenty-five laps today, like every day. Emerging from the water, Meredith was legitimately happy as the warm Florida sun touched her face. It was a perfect November day. Warm breezes moved the palm fronds in rhythmic pace, evoking a melody of sorts, but Meredith couldn’t discern the song. Reclining supine on her chaise lounge, the sound lightened her heart.

 

Opening her eyes to the glare of sunlight reflected from the water, she bowed her head in silent thanks for 55 years of mostly good memories. She wasn’t sure to whom she was grateful, only that she was.

 

Elation gave way to a chuckle, as Meredith’s lips parted. Wide eyed now, the memories stirred. How happy she had been to feel the wind blow through her hair as she perched on a tall branch of an Oak tree. She was seven-years old, and while her mother looked concerned beneath her, her father’s face shone with pride on that cool spring day. Not proud that Meredith was able to make the climb, but rather, pleased that she was willing to take the risk. Her father taught her, mostly, that there was no gain without risk.

 

Even her Mother’s lack of parenting after her father’s sudden loss had meaning today. It had birthed her independence, she realized. Had she been coddled, who knows what she might have become. Any resentment she had ever felt towards her Mother’s ambivalence was now forgotten, replaced by gratitude tinged ever so slightly by melancholy.

 

One by one she had lost them all. First her father died then her brother and finally her mother. Victims of cancer, they had all suffered. Meredith barely escaped the curse, but her cancer had been detected early and obliterated completely. The paradox of her escape from cancer begat a full blown laugh as Meredith’s shoulders shook with ironic mirth.

 

Choices, Meredith thought. Realizing the sheer volume of options life presented, she was suddenly astounded; acutely aware of the consequences of those decisions. Whether she had chosen correctly was inconsequential. The result of 55 years of choices had led her here, hadn’t they? And here, today, was the most beautiful place she had ever been.

 

She had been married twice. The first marriage ended at her request. Thinking her impetuous act had been a mistake all these years, today she was grateful that her first husband had found great happiness since they parted. The second marriage ended with a great deal of pain for Meredith. Fighting anxiety and abandonment issues for years after, she blamed her paralyzing fear of commitment on her second husband. Today, she knew with certainty he had done her the greatest favor. Relief from his always present need had freed her finally. Today, she offered him a silent prayer of thanks. Ultimately evolved, she was most content when alone.

 

After her last attempt at pregnancy failed at age forty, Meredith told her friends,

 

“There’s a reason I can’t have children. I’m not sure why now, but someday I’ll understand.”

 

She knew now it had not been fortuitous.

 

Meredith raised her face to the sunlight, delighted by the gentle kiss of the heat. All my life I’ve felt lucky, she hypothesized, rising to go indoors. After making her way into the house, she stripped from her bathing suit. Before entering the shower, she threw a load of laundry into the machine. Meredith loved to wash clothes. A simple task, it netted immediate and positive results. In dirty, out clean. So simple and so satisfying.

 

The water from the shower was gentle as it washed over her. She could already see the tan emerging from her few hours of basking. Healthy, she thought. A slight tan makes one appear so healthy. Soap suds soothed as she closed her eyes to the water. Meredith loved clean. She always had a clean house, a clean closet, a clean garage, a clean laundry room, clean drawers, and above all a clean body. Yes indeed, Meredith was clean.

 

Massaging shampoo into her scalp and hair seemed to force images from her mind into the openness of the shower stall, like a hologram. After the first seizure, Meredith had shared her fear with friends. Finally consenting to see a doctor at their urging, she started the first round of tests.

 

“We need to rule out the heart before we can explore the neurology,” the doctor explained. “It could be either, so let’s start with a stress test, EKG, echo-cardiogram, and the like. If those net negative results, we’ll look at the brain.” And so it began.

 

At first Meredith shared the information with everybody. Every test result, every new procedure became a topic of conversation on the phone, across a dinner table, or a quick coffee. Her life, though private, was never secretive. Meredith generally shared good times and bad with those she loved. But after a month, Meredith, contrary to her nature, began to lie.

 

“I’m fine. No, no it isn’t the heart. The brain became an issue, but they’ve ruled that out now. They aren’t sure. We’re in a wait/see mode. No I haven’t had an episode for a long time. It’s sort of like taking your car in for a rattle, then not hearing the rattle while it’s in the shop.”

 

No one doubted her, because honesty was Meredith’s greatest virtue. An inner voice had warned her that this was hush-hush information she needed to hold close.

 

“It’s inoperable, Meredith. It’s not malignant, but the brain tumor is inoperable nonetheless. The progression is uncertain, but at some point you’ll lose some mobility and it’s only a matter of time before your cognitive ability is affected. Pain? I’m not sure about pain…it’s hard to predict, but we can manage pain these days. How severe are your headaches now? You let me know when you need stronger pain medication. I know you’re alone Meredith, I know there isn’t any family. I’ll give you the information for Hospice. No, I can’t say how long, but not more than six months. There’s nothing we can do. I’m so sorry Meredith. My best advice is to get your affairs in order.”

 

Meredith had never been hugged by a physician before; the embrace felt penitent, contrite, and scary. Shock barred any tears at that moment, but arriving home, she erupted in volcanic fashion, hysteria overwhelming her. Melting into her celery green couch, alone with her terror, she began hiccupping with sobs. The seizure that followed was the worst yet. The spasms rendered her left side useless for a full fifteen minutes. Blurred vision accompanied by throbbing pain was so severe, she vomited.

 

She had flown to Ohio, just to look at her nephew and see her oldest friends. She loved them all with a ferocity that she couldn’t articulate. Intending to tell them, when face to face, she grew suddenly mute. Instead, Meredith teased and laughed and took great care to make them whoop with her.

 

That was just two weeks ago. Drying herself now, she couldn’t remember what made her so frantic. At some point, the trepidation had simply melted into resolve.

 

So now, on this sunny perfect November day, Meredith carefully applied her makeup and took extra care with her hair. She slipped into a slim black skirt, a low cut white blouse, and her highest black stilettos. She was pleased at the figure gazing back at her from the full length mirror.

 

Training had paid off and her shoulders and arms looked toned and younger than her years. Red hair gently curled around an oval face with wide brown eyes. It seemed the lines around her mouth had suddenly disappeared. The heels accented her shapely legs, and a wide smile revealed perfectly shaped white teeth. Meredith felt beautiful.

 

She folded her load of clothing, stacking them in an orderly fashion before methodically dispatching them to the appropriate drawers. After bundling the vibrators, her chosen lover of the last few years, into a garbage bag she walked them outside to the trash can. No need to embarrass anyone by their discovery. Returning to her office, she checked her desk one last time making sure all was in order. Paperwork was piled properly, all edges even. She carefully re-read her letter of instruction before placing it on top of the orderly stack. There was no apology. Meredith firmly believed that an act of contrition was unnecessary.

 

Walking through each room of her house, Meredith was appreciative for the time she had been allowed here, in this house, on this earth, in this life. She checked the refrigerator one last time, assuring herself that anything that might spoil was discarded. Stepping into the garage Meredith closed the door behind her.

 

Never feeling more alive, Meredith slid into the driver’s seat. Contented to have been loved and to have loved, grateful to have received and hopeful that she had adequately given back, Meredith was pleased for the opportunity to make this final choice.

 

A tube affixed to the exhaust was snaked through a back window as Meredith started her car. Alone, unafraid, and content with all the pieces that comprised the stained glass montage of her life, she turned on her CD player. “I believe in miracles…” belted Hot Chocolate. Meredith closed her eyes for the last time strongly believing in the miracle of life and convinced that death was no less extraordinary. Death was a gift, Meredith reasoned; for herself and for all those that she loved. There would be no witness forced to endure her suffering. “You Sexy Thing” played on as Meredith took her last breath.

 

Meredith was discovered the next morning…smiling.

Reviews

[Forest Green]

Very moving story of a choice made and why. Incredible courage shown in writing about a topic like this...giving up on life and disappointment.

One of the more compelling pieces on this topic that I've read. No answers sometimes appear out of the blue.

Sad, indeed.

Forest

[Catrinka]

Wow - powerful! Gives a different slant on suicide, doesn't it? Also helps to negate the argument that it is such a wrong way out of a life where death will soon be calling anyway...really a well-written, thought-provoking piece.