On Her Deathbed

***

The old man - and his wife of 40-odd years too - they'd always assumed she would outlive him.  The husband always dies first.  A man's life expectancy is just less than a woman's.  That's why at movie matinees, two-thirds of the audience is always women.  Only old people go to the matinee, of course, and since the men die younger, it's mostly women who are left to go see the movie.

Also, he was expected to die first because he was the one with the big health problems.  Specialists.  Overnights in the hospital for special "procedures."  That was him.  Less of that for her, you know.  Any way you looked at it, it was going to be him first.

*

Then, she had a big stroke.  Catastrophic.  9 - 1 - 1.  EMTs.  Ambulance.  All the right stuff, but it just wasn't enough.

She was up there now, on the big hospital bed.  They had detached all the IVs.  The oxygen feed she had at her nose was tiny, quiet, and clear.  She was just sleeping.  Almost all the time.

He stayed there with her.  When no one was around, he talked to her because he had read somewhere or someone had told him that talking out loud helped bring some people out of it, whatever they had keeping them down.  But mostly he had a chair they could boost up so he could hold onto her hand.  She seemed to grip him back, but was otherwise still.

*

Once in a while she would open her eyes and turn her face toward him.  He would greet her and ask how she was doing.  He would explain what had happened to her and that their doctor (they called her their PCP) was looking after her.

She looked steadily at him on those occasions, but did not try to speak.

Until now, that is.

This time, she was looking steadily at him as he was saying he had been right there with her, and he would be staying, when she moved her head a little bit.  She nodded in a certain way that made him think she wanted to say something to him.

He squeezed her hand tight, and leaned in to her, looking searchingly into her face.  She opened her mouth a little and raised her jaw slightly.  He leaned farther in and brought his ear in close to her mouth.  He said: "Did you want to tell me something?" saying her name.

He was wondering what she would want to say.  That she loved him?  That he shouldn't be sad too long but should try and start a new life without her?  That she was glad they'd been together so long?

He leaned down to her, and he heard her take in a little breath.  "You - " she said in a strained little whisper. 

"Your nose is about to drip."

***