my sister is dying. There is no way I can handle my mother’s anger or my dad’s disappointment.
“That’s enough,” Rafe barks unexpectedly at my mother, shocking her as much as it shocks me. Then he adds a bit more gently, “Taz is here because Nicky called for her.”
Using the brief silence that follows as my mother struggles to understand, I bend over my sister, my face close to hers, effectively shutting everyone else out. “I’m going to step out, but I’ll be back.”
“Promise?”
“I need a coffee and some fresh air, I promise I won’t be long.”
I kiss her papery cheek and without looking at Mom or Dad, slip by them and out of the room.
In the hospital lobby, I pick up a much-needed cup of coffee and head outside into the Missouri spring chill. Sinking down on a bench right outside the doors, I take a deep tug of the warm brew.
I wasn’t kidding, I need some air and a little space to come to terms with the request Nicky dropped on me, right before my parents showed up. My sister wants to die at home and she wants me to help make that possible.
The brutal reality tears through me and I stuff my fist in my mouth, stifling a sob.
My sister, my first and best friend throughout childhood, is dying. The many years wasted sit like a stone in my chest now that time is slipping away. Regret is an evil bitch.
I guess I always assumed we’d have time to sort through our issues. Not only with Nicky, but Mom and Dad as well. Instead, I’d hidden out on a different continent, convincing myself I could do more good there than back home, where I seemed to do everything wrong.
Stupid. I should’ve known it eventually would bite me in the ass. With his diagnosis of Parkinson's, I’d always figured Dad would be the one to bring me home. I never thought it would be my perfect and much too young sister I’d come to say goodbye to.
Pulling out my phone, I dial the New York number for the US headquarters of Doctors Without Borders. There’s no choice, really. Of course I’m going to stay and look after Nicky. After having given nine years of my life to the organization—when others generally sign up for one, maybe two years—I don’t encounter any resistance when I tell them I will need an indefinite leave of absence and may not be returning to the Congo.
A few tears escape when I think of the people I’ll miss, the friends I’ve made, and I bend my head to wipe under my eyes.
I know I’ve done the right thing, but it won’t be easy.
“Taz?”
I look up to find Rafe standing a few feet away, looking at me curiously. “Hey.”
“Nicky asked me to get you. The cardiologist is with her, he’d like a word.”
I shoot to my feet, toss the half-empty coffee cup in the garbage and wipe my palms on my jeans. “Everything okay?”
“I think he wants to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Hardly,” I mumble, heading for the entrance, Rafe falling in step beside me.
Rafe
Talk about conflicted feelings.
I almost hadn’t recognized Taz with her now long, multi-colored hair twisted into dreadlocks, but when she’d turned around—those deep brown eyes wide open—the air sucked out of the room. Emotions instantly swirled before anger firmly settled in place. It was the safest option to go with.
It’s mostly gone now. After some very difficult discussions these past few hours, I just feel intensely sad.
Nicky’s parents—her mother in particular—had been pretty vocal in their disapproval of the plans for their daughter to die at home. I suspect they’re still in denial and I can’t say I blame them. Sticking your head in the sand is a heck of a lot easier than dealing with the pain reality brings.
It didn’t help that Nicky insisted having their younger prodigal daughter be the one to look after her. Aside from the lack of medical training, Sarah has her hands full with her husband whose Parkinson’s is quite progressed. Taking on the care for Nicky would’ve been too much.
In the end they agreed, when a surprising vote of support came from Dr. Abawi, who emphasized the focus should be on quality—not quantity—of life at this point. The cardiologist took Taz aside to go over medications and a plan of care, with Sarah observing the interaction from a distance.
Even with everyone on one page—more or less—the situation remains a challenge.
“What about the