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.I d informed him that I had nodesire to draw out my suffering, but the doctor persisted, telling me thatmany ALS patients lived on for months, even years, with the aid of abreathing device.Such an existence made me shudder.Tono and I hadargued about it on several occasions.The whole point in having the Do Not Resuscitate document was to prevent anyone fromperforming heroic measures to keep me alive.I d signed it years ago toavoid a long and drawn-out death, but we d always hoped it wouldnever come into play.Now, I realized that a decision was imminent.Getting Tono toadmit that the disease had ratcheted up to its final phase would be anuphill battle.He would insist on a breathing tube.Surprising,considering how supportive he d been when I discussed the DNR withboth men years ago in New York.But then again, none of us hadthought we d ever need it.Paul seemed to have a better grip on thesituation, but Tono was floundering.I could see it clearly, and everytime I broached the subject, Tono would stand up and walk away.Itwas avoidance of the first order and so unfair because I couldn t chaseafter him.If things had been normal, I d be right in his face and tellinghim to pull his stubborn Spanish head out of his ass, but normal wasn tthe operative word these days.I didn t understand how a man who was usually so intuitive coulddeny that my quality of life would no longer be acceptable if I allowedthe doctor to have his way.The necessity to have me around at all costwas creating a chasm between us that I had to breach somehow.Tonowas a stubborn competitor who refused to acknowledge defeat.To hismind, death was the ultimate loss, and he wasn t about to hand me overwithout a fight. Shall we attempt the oatmeal? Baxter asked, breaking throughmy train of thought.I nodded and waited for the spoonful to be placed on my tongue.Istarted to chew, and when I attempted to swallow, nothing happened.The oatmeal remained in my mouth.I tried once more, and this time, itwent down, which was a huge relief.If I couldn t eat normally, theywould push for a feeding tube, along with a breathing tube.I d beworse than a potted fern.I d be like one of those plastic blowup dollsthat only sprang up and came to life when the air machine was turnedon.The rest of the time they lay in a crumpled heap on the ground.Myanger tore through my body like the raging bulls stampeding around thestreets of Pamplona.I was so fucking frustrated, I wanted to screamand break something. Baxter? Yes, sir? Pick up a glass and throw it on the floor for me. Excuse me? You heard me, I said.My eyes were blurry with heated tears asI waited to see if Baxter would comply.Baxter must have wrestled with a few arguments in his head butultimately picked up a glass filled with water and hurled it against thewall.The loud noise shattered the silence of the room as glasssplintered and fell onto the hardwood floor, leaving a huge wet spot andshards everywhere. Thank& you. I was grateful for this opportunity to vent, albeitvicariously. You re welcome.I shut my eyes and remained silent for a few seconds, trying to getmy temper in check.There was no point in letting it get the best of me,and Baxter certainly didn t need to put up with any more than wasnecessary.I sighed, and when I opened my eyes, Baxter was still therelooking at me kindly. Do you think you ll be able to read my lips when my voicegoes? I m sure we ll manage to communicate, sir. I have some paperwork I d like you to get ready for theattorney. When would you like to do that? Now? Let me clean up this mess first.If Paul or Tono sees it, they ll beupset.I nodded, agreeing one hundred percent. Do it, and Baxter? Sir? Don t tell them what just happened. I know when to remain silent. Yes, you do. I smiled. You re a big mystery. Me? I m an open book, sir. Sure you are.For one thing, I don t even know your first name.What is it?Baxter was picking up the pieces of glass with a broom and adustpan that he d retrieved from the kitchen.He paused. Is this reallyrelevant? It is to me.Come on, man, you re not going to let me die withoutknowing the full name of the person who s been kind enough to wipemy ass for the last three years. Really, Mick, Baxter huffed. You re playing every pity card.I grinned. I know. It s Sidney. As in Australia? As in Poitier. Oh! My mother was a big fan. Your mother had excellent taste.Are you getting it on with ourlady friend downstairs? Mr.Henley, Baxter huffed, reverting to formality. You recrossing the line. Oh, come on, Sidney.Throw me a bone [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]