A Bedside Plant
Jon Kuntz
A potted plant stood on the bedside table. It occupied a common ceramic pot covered in green-colored foil. The plant itself was a large leafy thing, that should have looked majestic were it not for the tinges of brown on its stalks and leaves. It was slowly dying, like Ralph.
Ralph knew it, his wife knew it, and his doctor knew it. He was given a prescription drug to give some comfort from the pain, and presumably to prolong his life, somewhat. Why should he want to prolong a life of anguish?
His illness was very hard on his wife, Susan. She had to continue working and then come home to nurse him at night. They agreed he should take over the spare bedroom, because his convulsions kept her awake at night. They paid a nurse to come in, about an hour during the day, to make him lunch and change his bedding. That was all they could afford.
Ralph kept reviewing his life. He was satisfied for the most part. It was a good life, one of friendship and family. He had a good career, one that provided for them but wasn’t overbearing the way some jobs are. His two children were always a joy and satisfaction to him. He loved them dearly. He and Susan had shared their life together, a life of accomplishments and even daring.
They had spent money when it probably wasn’t prudent to do so. They had a boat, a mini-yacht, so they spent summers on the out-islands. Later they had an RV and would make big trips in the summer and smaller trips throughout the year. They even, at one time, had an airplane. He had a license to fly from his early days in the Air Force. The airplane had to go when the first child arrived but that was all right.
Yes, it was a good life, but now it was ending. He was not going to recover. The illness would only get worse and with it more demand on Susan's time.
She felt so bad for her husband. He had worked his whole life and would have been able to retire next year. There were to be some good years ahead: retirement, travel, hobbies, doing things never done, things never tried. It was all being denied him because of his illness. She didn’t think it was fair. Well life isn’t, is it?
She hated to see him suffer, and for no good. The end was to be the same, whether it took one month or six months.
She had to change his garments, help him get to the bathroom, even feed him. She could tell he was embarrassed and hated that he couldn’t do basic tasks for himself. She knew the doctors were not doing him any service by prolonging his life.
This evening was like the others in her present life. It seemed the days just ran together. The old times would never return, but she didn’t have time to dwell on them.
She was fixing Ralph’s medicine. A half glass of water, break the capsule and put it in the water, stir it completely. She then brought a can of powder out of the dregs of her pantry, put some on a spoon and stirred that completely into the water of Ralph’s medicine. She put the cap on the can and returned it to the pantry. The label on the can had a warning, a “skull and crossbones” in white on a black field. She hated what she was doing, but she loved Ralph so much and didn’t want to see him suffer.
She brought the dinner tray and his medicine and helped to feed him. She then assisted him to the bathroom and back to bed. He never wanted her help to take his medicine, so she put it on the bedside table and left.
Ralph waited until she left the room. Then, as he’d done since taking this medicine, he reached over and poured the medicine onto the plant.
The next day their doctor called Susan at her workplace and asked her to come in. He had good news for her. They would discontinue Ralph’s medication immediately and put him on something new that has proved to work in cases like his. He has a 100% chance for recovery.
That happened a month ago, and you should see that plant now. No more dead brown, but new growth on it everywhere. And, the plant deserves it, because Ralph and Susan both give that plant credit for saving Ralph’s life long enough for the new medicine to come to them.
