*Viewer Discretion Advised*

During yesterday’s office visit we discussed all of Helen’s health issues. Near the end (no pun intended) our friend Bambi asked, “It’s with some reluctance that we bring this up, but is it time for hospice care?” To which Helen’s doctor responded that traditionally that’s something to be considered when the patient has six months to live. That, she said, does not apply to Helen.

Peter and I shopped for computer speakers while our father drove our mother home, but when I got back to my parent’s house I walked into my mother’s room and closed the door. I wanted to be alone with her.

Me: “I have a favor to ask. The kind of thing that only a mother might do for her son.”

Helen: “Is this another one of your questions I have to brace myself for?”

Me: “You could say that.”

Helen: “Well?”

Me: “I think you know how much I hate to be wrong.”

Helen: “I think I do. I might have an idea about where that came from.”

Me: “That’s why I usually don’t offer opinions. So I can’t be held accountable. So here’s the thing. I’m in huge bind. A while ago, sometime around the end of the summer, I told my friends that I was worried you wouldn’t last the winter.”

Helen : “But I did, didn’t I?”

Me: “Yes you did. And you can see my problem. Now that Dr. Bieker has given you more than six months how do think I look? Or better yes, how do you think I feel? Not only am I wrong, dead wrong if you will, but I’ve had this outpouring of sympathy from my friends because I had them convinced your end was so near.”

Helen: “And now you want me to die so you can feel better?”

Me: “I guess that pretty well sums it up.”

Helen: “You know I would if I could.”

*************

Ten minutes after our talk, long after her laugher had subsided, Helen asked, “If I did, would you feel guilty?”