Chapter 13

I SAT on a chair and took hold of one of the frail hands. There was nothing else I could do. A year ago I could tell her stories, and her merry laugh could be heard all over the wards if the story was a funny one, but stories would be out of place at this solemn time. Besides, something happened which showed me how careful I had to be not to annoy her. A tray fell with a deafening crash on the veranda outside, followed by a scream. Immediately Kathleen's face twisted with pain and then I knew that her nerves were all on edge. All she wanted was me to stay with her because her fingers sometimes squeezed on mine and at other times her eyes turned sideways to see if I were there.

I began to think of the change that had come over her in the last nine months. Then, she was a merry, gay child, disputing about the number of tricks she won playing cards or laughing heartily whenever she put me back to the starting point at Ludo. Now she lay a wreck of humanity with a little spark of life still left.

That evening she must have been suffering intensely from thirst because sometimes she used to mutter "drink". I lifted her to a sitting position and kept my arm around her shoulder. I filled a spoonful from a cup of water and put it between her lips. She could not swallow, but it wet her mouth and dribbled out onto a towel which I placed on her breast. After giving her about three spoonfuls I noticed to my amazement a smile spreading over her face as she looked shyly at me. Somehow this smile did away with the terror attached to death.

"What is the joke'?", I asked her. “You have your arm around me,” she replied.

"Alright, I will put you back on the pillow again," I said.

"Oh no, please don’t," she begged. “Hold me this way, and the pain is not as bad.” (8)

After being silent for a long time she spoke and I was surprised at the strength that had come into her voice. She wanted me to buy a new dressing gown for her and she described the kind of floral design she wanted round the neck and sleeves. She said Rita, one of the patients, had got one like that and that she looked nice when she got up and put it on.

“You know," continued Kathleen, ”I am getting up myself next week, and if I have one I will look nice too.” But I knew that her mind was wandering.

It seemed as if Kathleen would continue in this state for a few more hours and I had to be back at a certain time. Darkness was falling, and I was anxious to be past the wood, which was as eerie as the sanatorium itself and get on the main road, where cars were going by, and where some life could be seen. Besides I had yet to go to the Infirmary to disinfect my hands. (9)

At last I had to tell Kathleen that I was leaving, but I promised to come out again on the following evening. At the doorway of the ward I looked back at her. She was staring at me with a strange look in her eyes. I knew it was the last time we would see each other. Her hands were outside the coverlet, and she moved her fingers a little. It was her last farewell.

At about ten o’clock that night she got restless and called out, "Rita, Rita.” Rita in the next ward got up and sat near her. This was the girl who, according to Kathleen, had the blue dressing gown. "Rita, will you hold my hand,” she asked. And when Rita caught her hand she continued, "You are there Rita, but I cannot see you. that is why I asked you to hold my hand. I cannot see anything. I feel awfully queer,” murmured Kathleen. "Won't you stay with me, Rita."

Rita (from the next ward) remained with her for a long time but being feverishly sick for some days, she excused herself and asked if she could go back to bed.

“Do, Rita, go back to bed, and here, take my hot water bottle with you.”

As Rita had a high temperature, a hot water bottle was the last thing she wanted, and although Kathleen suffered from the coldness of death, she thought of others before herself.

Just as Rita was about to leave, Kathleen called, “I prayed for you Rita, you will never again get a headache." Rita used to suffer from migraine and severe headaches which no amount of aspro or sedatives could relieve. She is still alive, is married and has two in family, and acknowledged years afterwards that since that night she never again suffered from headaches.

From 1.30 a.m. a nurse was with Kathleen who sometimes talked, but her voice was so indistinct that nobody could distinguish the words.

At 2.00 a.m. on the morning of the 7th October, the Feast of the Holy Rosary, her voice stopped suddenly, an expectant look came into her eyes, then her eyes stared open and suddenly glazed, one large convulsive tremor passed through her body. Then she stiffened and lay still. She was dead. After months of suffering, death came peacefully and quickly.