Alone, Together

IT is a standard question and we ask every patient: Do you live alone or with others?

My patient is old, really, old -- with lovely smooth skin and cataracts turning her eyes that hazy, gentle blue. She tells me that she lives alone, that she's lived alone for all of the 30-odd years since her husband died. When I tell her I have to start an IV, she sees the dread on my face and tells me to think of her as my grandmother. I tell her this makes it worse, that I would hate to hurt my grandmothers. Oh no baby, she says, your grandmother loves you and is happy to see you, even with that big needle in your hand. She laughs and I laugh, resisting the impulse to lean in and kiss her cheek. I tie the tourniquet around her bird bone arm and ask, as casually as I can, so...do you mind living alone? Are you ever scared? Scared, honey? What do you mean? What do I have to be scared of? Everything comes and goes and everyone dies alone in the end now don't they? Well...yes, but do you have anyone to help you? I am flicking the backs of her hands, trying to coax her veins to stand up for me, trying to focus on the task, trying to do my job. She laughs again. I've got more people to help me than I can shake a stick at and would you believe it, there are still people who need my help? She cackles and shakes her head. No being alone is easy, it's the being with people that takes so much out of me. Are you seeing any good veins? They usually find something right... in.... here. She runs her knobby finger along the back of her hand and I think now here's someone who knows the back of her own hand.

I get the bright red flash, advance the catheter, send the color topped tubes off to the lab. My work here is done, Miss Grandma, I say. I hope I didn't hurt you too bad. Oh no baby, I didn't feel a thing. Well, is there anything else I can get you? Hopefully the doctor will be with you before too, too long. I am sitting on the edge of her bed and she puts her hand on my knee, the sort of reassuring touch that I'm meant to be giving her. No sweetie, I'm just going to sit right here and think of Lawrence, my late husband. Being around him was never hard. Thinking about him keeps me from ever really being alone.