One Last Love

The End

‘So, this is it then?’

‘I’m afraid so Bonnie. There’s nothing more we can do except keep you as comfortable as possible.’

‘You’ll just drug me up to the gills you mean.’

‘Well, without the medication you’d be in considerable pain.’

‘So how long then?’

‘Days. A couple of weeks perhaps.’

‘Not the best news I’ve had today Doc.’

‘I’m sure it’s not, but you’ve always asked me to be up front with you. I wish I could give you a better prognosis.’

‘And to think, I first came to see you just because I had a sore back and thought I’d pulled a muscle,’ he half laughed. ‘Been all downhill since then, hasn’t it?’

‘When was that? Must be what, six years?’

‘Yeah, about that I s’pose. It was just after the missus passed away. I moved up here for a change of scenery. Must’ve picked up this bloody cancer thing on the bus trip. It was full of bloody hippies from god knows where. Thought they looked a bit contagious at the time.’

‘I think you had it well before the bus trip,’ Doctor Phillips smiled. He liked Bonnie and although the prognosis had been grim from shortly after the very first time he had met him, he had admired his sense of humour through what had been very difficult years of treatment.

‘Geezz, you reckon I might’ve given it to those poor young hippie bastards then?’

‘Luckily cancer isn’t contagious. I think you can rest easy on that one.’

‘Ah, I can drop off the perch with a clear conscience then?’

‘Look Bonnie, we’d like to move you from here to somewhere more comfortable,’ Phillips said bringing the conversation back to the second reason why he had come to see Bonnie.

‘A hospice I suppose?’

‘Yes. I think it would be best, if you agree.’

‘Need to free up a hospital bed quick smart then hey Doc? Got ‘em queued up in the corridors again?’

‘At least your sense of humour is still working.’

‘About all that is huh?’ he said with only a half a smile before pausing. ‘So looks like it’s time for me to check in to a Dead End Hotel and do a bit of waiting for god.’

‘You do have a way with words. But if you like I can arrange for a clergyman to visit.’

‘Oh Christ no. It was just something I saw on the telly. Waiting for God was a TV show. Funny as hell it was,’ Bonnie started to say but a coughing fit interrupted him. ‘All about a bunch of old farts in a nursing home,’ he finally managed to say.

‘Oh I remember it now you mention it. English program, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right. There was this old fella always on the lookout for condoms. Use to laugh s…’ he said before another coughing fit.

‘But if you feel the need for someone to talk to, or anything like that though, just ask. Ok?’

‘No worries Doc.’

‘Do you have any questions?’

‘Apart from why the hell me, probably not. I know you’ve done your best for me Doc. But hell, I’m seventy-eight, so not a bad innings for a smoker, drinker and bacon lover.’

‘Well, if you think of anything.’

‘Ok. So when do I move house?’

‘Probably tomorrow afternoon or the morning after.’

‘So I’m waiting for a vacancy then. As one goes out the door…..,’ Bonnie started to say but another bad coughing fit robbed him of any more words.

‘I’ll come again and check on you tomorrow morning. Just get some rest now,’ Phillips said and turned to leave with the nurse. ‘I’ll need to change his medication,’ he said as he walked away with her.

‘Very well Doctor, I’ll get Mr Mayfield’s file,’ she said as they both turned into the nurses’ station two doors from Bonnie’s ward. ‘Are you stopping his treatment?’ she asked as she thumbed through the files to find Charles Mayfield’s patient file.

‘Dr. McManus will take over responsibility for Mr. Mayfield’s palliative care, but until then we’ll concentrate on pain relief,’ Phillips said as he made the necessary notes in the file. ‘I’ll call in again tomorrow morning.’

*****

Bonnie half slept. Images of his life sweeping through his mind like autumn leaves, swirling in circles on a cold breeze. Pleasant memories mingled with the painful as if the deck of his life was being shuffled in his mind in readiness for one last hand. The suffering he had caused his wife folded in with her selfishness and misunderstanding. Regrets rained in like a misty drizzle, fogging his mind. Then voices called him, reproached him. A few soothed him.

‘You’ll never make anything of your life,’ his father words echoed from a time long past. ‘Leave school and roam the streets if you want, but you’ll not be fed for free under my roof.’

‘I just can’t go on Bonnie,’ his wife cried a year after Colin had died. Their only child taken from them at only eleven years old on a pedestrian crossing on his way home from school. ‘We’ll move on,’ he replied – but they never did.

‘Get you stuff and out!’ his boss yelled after discovering Bonnie had had his hand in the till to help cover his gambling debts.

‘Can’t you keep a job for more than a month? How are we going to pay the rent?’ his wife rushed back in to his mind to chastise him. Then left, only to return at another time.

‘I love you too Bonnie,’ she said just before she finally submitted to his advances and they had sex for the first time in the back seat of his car at the Galaxy drive-in; while Elvis sang Wooden Heart in a scene in G.I. Blues. ‘It was so long ago, wasn’t it Carol?’ his mind replied.

‘Daddy, read Shep for me,’ Colin asked as he tucked him into bed, then read the well worn pages of Shep the Sheepdog to Colin until he fell asleep. The images in Bonnie’s mind shifting from Colin’s bed to Colin’s grave.

His half sleep was woken by a nurse busying herself near his bed. He felt her hand take his wrist; she smiled. She looked at her watch. Bonnie looked at her breasts. He smiled. ‘What time is it?’ he asked.

‘Just after eight.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m just giving you something to help you sleep Bonnie.’

Sleep arrived. The voices and images, and the day, kindly killed by sedatives.

Day One

‘Good morning Mr. Mayfield. I’m Dr. McManus.’

‘Everyone calls me Bonnie.’

‘Alright Bonnie it is then. Look, Dr. Phillips will be along later, but I just wanted to say hello as I’ll be responsible for your care when you’re moved.’

‘Ah, so you’re the head porter at the Dead End Hotel then?’

‘Oh, well, perhaps the concierge.’

‘Good. So you’ll be able to recommend some good restaurants close by.’

‘Your sense of humour is in fine form then I’d say.’

‘It helps,’ Bonnie said in a sudden change of mood.

‘Yes it does,’ he paused. ‘Look, we’re hoping to move you this afternoon so we’ll disconnect all these monitors. We’ll just leave the shunt in your hand for medication.’

‘Time to give up then.’

‘Just making you as comfortable as possible. You’ll have much more freedom of movement.’

‘Can I go outside?’

‘The hospice has a beautiful garden that you can use.’

‘So I can have a smoke there then?’

‘Yes you certainly can. Of course smoking isn’t allowed inside for safely and legal reasons.’

‘Uh, so where is this place?’

‘Not far. Just a few miles from here. It’s on three acres, so it’s quiet and peaceful.’

‘Like I’ll be very soon.’

‘There’ll be more people you can talk to there, and you won’t be cooped up by yourself in a ward like here. I’m sure the interaction with the staff and the other patients will lift your spirits.’

‘No problems Doc. So long as they can put up with me.’

‘I have no doubt about that Bonnie. And I’m sure your visitors will feel more comfortable there too.’

‘Don’t get many visitors Doc. Bit of a loner since my missus died and well, I s’pose I pissed a few people off.’

‘What about family Bonnie?’

‘Never been much on ‘em and sorta lost touch. They’re mostly down south anyways.’

‘You’ll have a telephone in your room so you might want to contact some of them.’

‘Ha! Not bloody likely Doc. Leave the bastards in peace.’

‘Ok, it’s up to you,’ McManus said thinking it best to drop the subject. ‘Do you have enough clothes? You can dress how you feel comfortable, unlike here.’

‘Not much. Just what I arrived here in.’

‘Do you have friends that could fetch some for you?’

‘Well, eh, not really,’ Bonnie admitted and felt an ice cold gust of loneliness wash over him.

‘That’s ok Bonnie. I’ll arrange for a social worker to call by to see you and help you collect some of your belongings.’

‘Thanks.’

‘So, I’ll let the nurses get you ready and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Thanks Doc.’

As Dr. McManus walked away, Bonnie lay still. Expressionless. He started to hope Dr. Phillips’ estimation of days rather than weeks was more accurate. There was no point any longer. His life had been lived, as had the mistakes he’d made. Not that he felt guilt or remorse even now. Friends, lovers and family that had stayed some moments or lingered for years before fading had all long gone now. Some had stayed after Carol died, but many only to blame Bonnie for his indiscretions and lack of responsibility. His cocky nature, sharp tongue, drinking, gambling and liking of a pretty face always an easy target for those who didn’t understand the suffering Carol inflicted on him. Everyone blinded by the pity they had for Carol. Married young and always short of money, the stress started early on as did Carol’s temper. She found her solace in blaming Bonnie for most things. Often greeted by abuse, or flying crockery on arriving home from work, Bonnie knew exactly why he disliked going home some days. But they had stayed married, as was the expectation of those times. Through thick and thin. After Colin died it was worse. Her bitterness, quieter, less often, yet wounding more deeply. There was no such thing as an accident in Carol’s mind so she apportioned blame and of course apportioned a great deal on Bonnie.

On occasions he had tried to seek help for Carol as he started to understand a little about depression and anxiety, or ‘nerves’ as it was simply called back then, but she would have none of it. In the latter years they lived totally separate lives, divided not only by Carol’s unwillingness to share a bedroom but also by his own hatred of her bitterness. That she committed suicide naturally brought shock and sorrow from friends and family as it did their whisperings of blame on Bonnie. In his mind though, she had killed herself knowing this. Her final act of vengeance.

‘I’m just going to remove this Bonnie,’ a smiling young nurse said as she fiddled away with a dressing. ‘I hear you’re moving today. We’ll miss your smart remarks,’ she said even more cheerfully.

‘Um, yes.’

‘I’m sure you’ll feel much more comfortable once this is gone. Won’t take a minute.’ he didn’t answer.

‘Mrs Lloyd will be in later. She’s one of the social workers here so she’ll organise getting your clothes or anything else you need. She’s such a nice lady you know.’

‘Oh,’ Bonnie said just to be polite.

‘Yes. She’s always busy, busy, busy. You know the type. Bossy and busy but a heart of gold.’

‘Ouch!’

‘Sorry. Won’t take long. Just one more and I’m finished,’ she said as she busied herself with dressings, catheters, syringes and kidney bowls. Bonnie lay quietly and waited for thoughts of Carol to fade.

‘There we are!’ she said after some minutes as if some startling achievement had been reached. ‘All finished.’

‘So I can walk out of here now then?’

‘Sure can. No more machines to slow you down,’ she smiled.

‘Alright, sit me up, give me a push and I’ll start running.’

‘Not sure you’ll be running Bonnie. Stick to walking might be a better idea.’

‘Alright. I’ll walk straight to the pub then.’

‘Great idea.’

‘Well, maybe tomorrow.’

‘Whenever you want. Now, anything else I can get you?’

‘No, I’m fine. Thanks.’

‘I’ll get another pillow for you so you can sit up.’

‘Thanks.’

When she returned and lifted him forward he felt her breasts against his arm and her face close to his. She didn’t wear perfume, but instead, filled his nostrils simply with her femininity. Her closeness not bringing any sense of arousal, just caring, softness, gentleness and warmth. Feelings Bonnie wished he had experienced more often in his life. While she fussed, he breathed in her smell. It lingered in his nostrils long after she had left. He tried to imagine having sex with her, but couldn’t. Then he fell asleep, without really wanting to.