Page 21 of Gotta Dig Deep
“Talk. I can listen and do this.” She didn’t look over her shoulder, concentrating instead on the next step of the process, making her movements precise and controlled. That’s how she did everything these days. Didn’t matter if it was out working the cattle, folding laundry, or helping her husband onto the bedpan. Precise and controlled allowed her to keep a muzzle on the anger raging inside her head, the pain that swallowed each breath and strangled her deaf and dumb.
“According to the nurse, we’re past time to bring hospice in.” Wood sliding across the floor told her he’d taken a seat at the table. “They’ve been able to keep him mostly comfortable, but hospice has different rules that she said we can work to Penn’s advantage.”
“Hospice?” The whispered word itched like poison ivy as it passed her lips, a horrid vibration that left painful tingles behind. Hospice would be acknowledging this was the end, admitting that there wasn’t anything left to fight with or for.I don’t want them taking him out of here.
“Yes, ma’am.”
At that, she shot a glare over her shoulder to see he’d used that word to get a rise out of her. “Stop it, Cooter. Don’t ma’am me.”
“Nobody calls me Cooter anymore.” Reggie “Cooter” Arnold chuckled dryly and gave her a tiny uptick at the corners of his mouth. “But I needed to make sure you were listening.”
“All I’ve done now for a year is listen.” With the coffeemaker gurgling happily, she couldn’t pretend she was still working on anything. Turning to face him fully, Glenna let him see the anguish that rode her hard every day. “Caught late. No symptoms until the pain hit him. No treatment. Hell, they opened him up six months ago and didn’t do anything except close the incision. ‘Nothing to do, Mrs. Richeson.’ That’s what they told me, still in their paper slippers. A five-hour surgery over in twenty minutes. All I can do is listen to Penn, to the doctors, to the lawyers.” Even though she was his wife, the lawyer had urged them to set up various power of attorney documents, and had Penn sell her his half of their place for a couple of hundred dollars so the medical debt wouldn’t steal everything away. They’d recommended a divorce, but Glenna had put her foot down on that one. “They want to call hospice in. What will they do for him that the nurses can’t?”
“They can be here round the clock. A large part of what they do is focused on the patient, but they also are here for the caregiver, because nothing about this whole shitty thing is easy.” He shifted in the seat and pulled a folded sheaf of papers from his back pocket.Had them prepared even before they got here today.“I’ve got some information, and I had the nurse make a preliminary call to the local coordinator. They’ve got standby staff ready to start today and can guarantee you we won’t get any pushback from insurance on this. Also, hospice at home is a damn sight cheaper than in-facility, and I know being away from the ranch is not what you or Penn want.”
“He can stay here?” Locking her elbows with hands flat on the countertop behind her, Glenna covered the sudden weakness wobbling through her knees. “In our home?”
“You’ve made a more than passable nursing room in there. Plenty of room for what’s needed. A lot of the machines can go back to the pharmacy, when you’re ready. The folks from hospice will be able to help with all of that.” Reggie paused and blew out a breath. “I can help with the outside work. Me and family. My pa and brothers would be happy to do whatever they can. Pa already called me twice today to see if I’d talked you into letting him help. Since selling his place, he’s been angry as a rank bull penned for no good reason. You’d be doing Ma a service, promise. And me, if it’ll keep him off my ranch for even a handful of days.”
“I don’t have anywhere for them to stay.” Glenna fought to keep her chin from bumping as her voice quavered.I will not cry. Not now. Not for this.“It’s always just been me and Penn out here, so I don’t have a bunkhouse or anything. Not like the big outfits.”
“Like I said, Pa’s ready. Ma told me he’s already got the travel trailer hooked to the pickup, ready to roll. You’d just need to tell them what to do. The boys—my brothers and their oldests—they’ll all take turns with him, so it doesn’t hit any of them too hard.”
For some reason, admitting she needed help with the ranch was harder than saying yes to hospice.
Reality hurt, but in the end, Glenna approved both proposals. Before the sun had set, a camper was parked up next to the big barn and already had a summer kitchen set up next to it. Inside the house, the local coordinator had shown up with the two care providers who’d be working with Penn, ensuring Glenna had a chance to at least meet both of them. The generous gesture had helped because hearing the two nurses echo Cooter’s words and watching them nod as the organizer informed about the process worked to settle something in Glenna’s gut.
Penn had woken twice, confused at first, but once he’d laid eyes on Glenna, he’d been uncaring about anything else around him. It soothed both of them, so she’d sat with him for hours. Talking quietly about nothing in particular as she traced his fingers with her own, she hadn’t paid attention to the daylight seeping away outside, not until it was gone and past dark.
Without asking permission, she stretched out next to Penn in the narrow hospital bed and wrapped his arm around her as she watched his face. Close like that, when the pain had pulled him awake the next time there’d been no confusion or fear, just the expression she’d always taken for granted—love. Nothing but love in his eyes as they lay together.
Midnight came with the clock in the hallway chiming the hour and Glenna stirred, easing off the bed and stretching until her back popped. She dragged a chair close and stared down at Penn as the gloomy lighting striped his face with shadows, making him look far older than he was. Even knowing that much was an illusion, Glenna couldn’t ignore the toll the disease had already taken on him. Skin slack from weight loss, the hair at his widow’s peaks had receded another half an inch, and the flesh of his hands and arms were mottled with bruises from injections, blood tests, and IVs. He slept quietly and Glenna didn’t move, keeping her quiet watch for hours.
Noise behind her wasn’t important enough to take her eyes off Penn, so she waited for whoever it was to speak.
“Mrs. Richeson.” The voice was deep and rough, and Glenna nodded in recognition of Cooter’s father.
“Mr. Arnold, I appreciate what you’re doing for me and Penn.” The sheets rustled as Penn’s legs moved restlessly and Glenna stretched out her hand and smoothed the fabric down his chest. “We appreciate it.”
“It’s nothing more than neighbors should do in times of need.”
Glenna glanced over her shoulder, seeing the older man still paused in the doorway to the kitchen. “Not a lot of folks would do it, though.” Penn’s heart thudded reassuringly underneath her palm, and she turned to stare back down at him. “‘In times of need.’ That says so much, doesn’t it, Mr. Arnold? Thank you.”
“Me and my boys will be up and at it daily, get the herd worked into the paddocks. Notes have them needing vaccinations and drenching, so we’ll handle it all, Mrs. Richeson.” Tension in his voice made Glenna wonder if he expected her to argue.He’ll wait forever for that right now.“Already got the vet lined up.”
“I know we’re behind in the normal upkeep.” If she weren’t standing next to the hospital bed holding her dying husband, Glenna might have dug up some remorse for the cattle that had been left to languish in the pastures. She’d even found a home for the few remaining chickens. Anything not Penn felt like just too much. “I kept up with feeding and watched the calving close this year, but there just hasn’t been time for much else.”
“Ain’t a single thing to apologize for, Mrs. Richeson.”
“Please, call me Glenna. I’ve known you and your wife since Cooter and I were kids, and I’ve eaten dinner at your kitchen table more than once. Call me Glenna.”
Leather scuffed across the floor and a hand settled on her shoulder, fingers digging in just right to soothe. Solid and reassuring, Mr. Arnold said more in that single touch than she’d heard from anyone over the past year.
“Death comes for all of us sooner or later, Glenna. Anything I can do to help ease this for you, my boys and I are ready. Give you the time you need with Penn. Give you as much time as he’s got left. We’ll take care of it all. Nothing to worry about, and nothing to thank me for.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then patted the center of her back. “You do what’s needed in here, and we’ll do the same out there.”
A minute later, she heard him speak to the hospice nurse, then the kitchen door closed behind him, leaving Glenna with Penn.
Palm flattened on his chest, Glenna gazed at Penn’s face as he rested, mapping every change in his expression. No fear or pain, but he seemed filled with a profound exhaustion, something that drew his brows together and caused his shoulders to hunch.
