The Last Four Months

By Yvonne Jack

Home health aide Hannah has been hired to care for resident Isaac Gold at Happy Smiles Nursing Home, except this nursing home is anything but happy. Wrought with abuse, negligence, and bureaucratic challenges, she finds herself helplessly constrained in trying to shield Isaac from the specter of death that pervades over the nursing home. But Hannahs own troubled past comes back to take her for a ride. Knowing what happened the last time someone she cared for tried valiantly to influence change in the whole nursing home industry, can Hannah save Isaac or should she save herself. THE LAST FOUR MONTHS is a lyrical and mournful tale about family, aging, relationship, and sacrificial love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491871065

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© 2014 Yvonne Jack. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/21/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7104-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7105-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7106-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014904402

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

The First Time

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

IN MEMORY OF HENRY

WACHLER

This book is dedicated to my departed

friend Henry Wachler. Henry thanks for sharing

your kind and gentle soul with me thus inspiring me to write this book.

The First Time

She was tired of lying to him. If you try a little harder, you will walk out of here and go home, she had promised, as she wheeled him out of the rehab room of the nursing home. I don’t think so, I’ll leave here in a coffin! he cried out in anguish. She immediately stopped the wheelchair and went around to face him, momentarily thankful, that he could not see her lying face. Before she could utter a single word of comfort, tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes. She saw the tiny furrows playing between his brows, the trembling of his lips.

She looked pitifully at his face, trying to see beyond the pain and sorrow registered there; A ninety-five year old man; his exterior seemingly untouched by time. Her eyes traveled down to His strong looking arms and legs not belying his athletic past, then back to his somber eyes. She cleared her throat, wishing that something bright and hopeful would come out - another ingenious lie perhaps? Not surprisingly, before she could speak another deceptive word, this sensitive man held up one trembling hand with the other and quickly wiped away the tears.

He had become aware that she was standing in front of him. This wonderful caring man didn’t want anything untoward inferred against his family. Tonight, his son Gideon, was coming to see him. She immediately began to think of ways in which she could avoid him. Sometimes the hatred she felt for him would overwhelm her, even frighten her and tonight was one of those times.

It wasn’t always this way, at one time she thought of him as her kindred spirit - that they shared the same love for the old man and that he embodied her hope that one day, the old man would be released and be able to go back to the house he built, in which to end his days with the family he loves around him. There was a time when she too loved his family. She loved all strong families. Then one day, her hopes were brought crashing down to earth. When in a meeting with the other siblings, which excluded the old man and Gideon, she was informed that Isaac’s wish was not going to be granted. That he was not ever going home again. Hooray! For strong families and their unrequited love!

Gideon once represented hope, she thought he would never let the old man die in there but he had deceived her with his actions, his open display of love and great affection towards Isaac. Could he really be this deceitful and wily? God, how much she hated him now! She did not have to look at the time; she knew it was 6:30, which was when he got to the nursing home, when it was his turn to do so. There were six siblings and they all took turns visiting their father but Gideon came more often than the rest. As much as three times a week he did come. That deceitful bastard!

Even though the sun was waning, he squinted toward the figures at the entrance of the nursing home. His eyes felt exceptionally tired this evening he squinted again. He saw the old man sitting in his wheelchair, he saw trouble ahead-trouble in the way she stood, tall and straight, with her hands resting protectively on the old man’s shoulders. He didn’t want to deal with this tonight. He was sure that she had one of her disagreements with someone over the old man’s care.

Oftentimes, he’d wish that she would ignore some of the little things but then he knew that he dared not verbalize those wishes to her, as she would be horrified, because when looked into there was always some verbal or physical abuse, perpetrated on his father who was becoming very combative. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe deeply, he cautioned himself as he saw the contradiction of love and hate approaching him.

She stopped abruptly with the wheelchair between them and immediately launched her verbal attack. He said it again, that he is going to come out of here in a coffin. I can’t take it anymore, his pain, his cries of anguish and most of all your cruelty! It would be better if you all take your collective hands and kill him, strangle him, tear him into bits, then take the pieces as your trophies, displaying them on your mantle, the showpieces of your love!

Then with a quick movement, she leaned over and brusquely kissed him on the top of his head. I love you, Isaac Gold, she whispered passionately. Hannah withdrew to her full height - her eyes brimming with tears, then looked witheringly at Gideon and spat out, I hate you, you wicked bastard! then spun around on her heels and was off. For a fleeting second, Gideon felt a sense of fear. He had never seen such passion of fear, hatred, and yet, tormented vulnerability all at once in someone’s eyes. He looked after the woman fleeing toward her car.

He knew that all of this was not about his father. He and the woman had lots of pleasant conversations. He also knew that she never spoke that way with his other siblings and she would always end the conversations by saying I know that I talk too much. He would then assure her that if there was anyone who talked too much, that it would be him. Then they would both conclude with a laugh, We talk too much.

Gideon looked after the fleeing woman. He thought about going after her, to comfort her, to ask her to stay because he felt that she needed his father just as much as his father needed her. His siblings would be disappointed that he did not persuade her to stay. Gideon was not a selfish person. He knew that this is what Hannah needed to do in order to save herself. He saw her crashing at a dizzying speed but he could not head it off, his hands being full with his father’s issues. She too was not selfish; Hannah had introduced another aide to her job whenever she had to be away. While the aide was not as affectionate towards the old man and nobody expected her to be, she was kind and she would do.

Gideon had also known that this moment was not long in coming. He sighed wearily and decided to take the old man for a walk along the vast grounds of the nursing home. He loved doing so because he was able to unburden himself of the travails of the day while conversing with the old man on those walks. Oftentimes, his father would be able to follow much of the conversation especially when Gideon would talk about the business, the millinery business which his father relinquished to him due to his failing health. Then his father would get animated and give his advice as if it was still fifty years ago.

Suddenly, Gideon looked up and saw the car barreling down on them. His first instinct was to push the old man out of the way, but then he stayed put. She loves him, she won’t hurt him. The car came to a screeching halt at their side. Gideon looked at the woman, her eyes red, her mouth twitching with anger- anger because she had exposed herself and Gideon had seen just how vulnerable she really was. Why don’t you get him out of here, she pleaded once again on the old man’s behalf.

I don’t get it; you say that you love him, which I never doubted before, but time and time again I will tell you about how he is being ill-treated, yet you still keep him in here! she shouted, her frustration building. You proclaim that you love him more than anything in the world-cheap empty words! she shouted, hitting him below the belt. Gideon knew what this was all about; she was trying to force him to take a position on the old man’s residency right there in front of him. The tears began to well up in her eyes yet again. Tell me, are you going to take him out or leave him in here to suffer! she demanded of Gideon.

Gideon’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He could feel the blood rushing to his temples. The woman had no right to do what she was doing. She had crossed the line; this was his father, his family’s concern. He bared his teeth at her, ready to pounce on her with his words, ready to destroy her. But just then, a cool breeze came wafting through, bringing with it, the strong scent of the overripe oranges and lemons from the nearby fields, filling his senses, floating through his head, cleansing, calming him.

He looked at the woman again; his eyes were drawn to hers and traveled down to where her pained ones rested. Sheepishly, he unclenched his fists and flexed his fingers wincing slightly as he felt the ‘sting’ in the middle of his palms where his nails had dug in. He felt like a fool when he realized that the woman was goading him to react to her. She was conflicted and needed this impending confrontation to really feel free to leave.

He shook his head and sneered at the woman. He was angry at her for what she had just revealed to his father. He loved his father with all his might and would go after anyone who knowingly and willingly hurt him. She should know that—and while his father would forget what had just transpired with maybe the next conversation, it tore at Gideon who would not forget and that she knew. You really are a deceitful bastard. She snarled before she drove off. She is gone dad, she has left us. Was that Hannah? Isaac asked quietly, too quietly.

Gideon bent down, kissed Isaac, and said, Dad, dad, it’s just the two of us against the world—they don’t understand us. What is there to understand? Isaac inquired, as Gideon tasted the salt in the teardrop that slid down Isaac’s cheek. Gideon straightened up, inhaled deeply and exhaled ever so slowly as he looked narrowly at the now departing car. Then unexpectedly it hit him! They always talked about the present, the now- Hannah and him.

They never talked about her past, her family. She loved his father, and unusually so. Suddenly, it dawned on him that they never ever talked about him, her father! What is it about her father? As the car disappeared from sight, Hannah and Gideon were occupied with the same sad thought. The old man’s one fervent wish will not be fulfilled—he is never going home again—he is going to die in there. All alone in that cold unforgiving tomb, Hannah ended her thought angrily.

Prologue

Traitor! Traitor! She screams angrily to herself as she peels the urine soaked diaper from Isaac’s body and pulls at the two pads that did absolutely nothing to prevent the bed sheets from getting wet. How long has he been lying here in this condition? Tearfully, she watches as drops of urine escape the diaper and follow her into the bathroom. For every drop, she hisses again and again. Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!

Suddenly, she feels it coming on—the dryness in the pit of her stomach which will soon take over her whole body and finally explode in her head. She knows that she should contain her anger because the wave of colors will soon follow, knocking her off her feet. She shakes her head, as if to clear it and thinks, …For Isaac. Everything she does now will be for Isaac.

She remembers now, the two weeks prior to her leaving him for the first time. They were in the bus coming back from the doctor’s; she had noticed him fidgeting in his wheel chair when she looked across at him and saw the confusion etched on his face.

She asked him what’s wrong. I’m afraid, please hold my hand, he implored. She extended her hand, held his tightly and whispered comforting words to him for the duration of the ride. Again, it happened yesterday, but he was sitting on the bath chair when he said, I’m afraid that I’m going to drown. Could you please hold my hand Hannah? She was deliriously happy. This was the first time since she had been back with him that he has called out her name. He was becoming more lucid and coherent. He does not belong here—if only…

Without warning, the waves of colors now come rushing at her knocking her off feet. Not fair, she thinks. They did not follow the usual pattern. They did not allow the dryness to envelope her body, to explode in her head, as the red, green, gold and blue colors keep sweeping over her.

Unexpectedly she lets out a scream of frustration. What’s wrong? Isaac calls out with disinterest. Sheepishly, she lies, I stubbed my toe, hoping to get a laugh out of him—he does not respond.

Since her return, she noticed that their relationship is strained. Isaac has told her on two different occasions that he doesn’t like her. In fact, on the last occasion he stated emphatically that he never did. That hurt her like hell even though she knew he was lying through his teeth. Now as she stands on the side of the bed looking down at her friend, she hears him tearfully repeating over and over, O God, why did he do it? Why did he do it? Why did he do it? Isaac, who are you talking about and what did he do?

A shadow of fear crosses his face and he tightens his lips. She should know that Isaac would never tell – he loves him too much but Hannah knows that he is talking about Gideon and she vows silently that one day she would make him pay for what he has done to Isaac. Traitor, Traitor, Traitor! She wails as the dryness and the waves of colors sweep over her.

Chapter 1

So this is what a sacrificial lamb looks like, Hannah muses as she watches the old man who is strapped to the stretcher. This is not right! This is not right! the old man cries out. The younger man quickly stops the conversation that he was animatedly engaged in on the cell phone and crosses over to the old man. He tries to assure Isaac that everything will be alright, that this new place that they are going to is better than the previous four that he has been in, but he isn’t falling for it. He is calling out to Naomi and Benjamin to come and save him, to take their little boy with them.

Mama, Papa! See what they are doing to your little boy? They are trying to lock me away in yet another place, where they’ll try to poison me, to kill me! The old man calls out to his long dead parents. Dad, Dad! At least let’s try this new place. My friend’s uncle is there and he likes it there and I’m sure you will too. The old man thinks for a while and then asks weakly, Did he build a house as I did? he takes Gideon’s silence as a no and continues, Do you remember the stories, Gideon? Do you remember the stories about the hardship your mother and I faced to build the perfect home where we could raise you and your siblings and one day leave to you all. Whenever a room was completed, we gave a special prayer to my parents, your grandparents who left us the millinery business that you now run. There was little money, but at least we had faith and hope in the business.

Dad, Dad, please Dad, don’t! Gideon pleads softly. Defiantly, Isaac continues, Your friend’s uncle doesn’t have anyone, but I have you Gideon. I have you, your mother, brothers and sisters—please don’t do this to me, Gideon.

Gideon touches his father’s face tenderly and says, Cut it out Dad we are not alone. Oh! his father replies alarmed and twitches nervously on the stretcher. Gideon breathes easily and smiles to himself. He knows his father to a ‘tee.’ He knows that his father is a closed person and would never knowingly divulge family business to another. If truth be told, Gideon really did not care who heard the story. He was proud of his parents and their resiliency. In fact he retold the story over and over to his friends and their kids.

God! How he loves these two people, his parents. Today is not a good day because he is frustrated that the task of putting his father in this his fifth nursing home is once again left up to him, as was the four times before. He dreaded receiving such a call as the one he received four weeks ago. In a nutshell, his father was being very disruptive and the other residents were upset—they were afraid of him. Gideon, yes it always fell to him; he would have to make other arrangements, have to find alternative accommodation for him.

They were sorry— the administrators of the nursing home were but not as sorry as Gideon was. Try guilt ridden, try remorseful. The social worker even offered to find suitable help so that the old man would be able to go back to his home where he desperately wanted to be, hence the anger and disruptions. Gideon remained unyielding, even after the officials in the room had offered up different solutions, all aimed at getting the old man to his home. Yes, Gideon was adamant—the house was not conducive and would never be for his wheelchair bound father and his many physical problems.

As he pushed himself away from the table and bid goodbye to the social worker and her co-workers, he walked stoically towards the door, which he slammed shut behind him. Those in the room couldn’t help but remark at the sardonic smile that was dancing in his otherwise cold eyes. Gideon leaned hard against the door from which he had just emerged. His heart was racing. He loved his father fiercely, he loved him without a doubt but he loved his mother fiercely too.

Whenever he looked into her eyes, he would see the not too distant past where he would be reminded of what the word ‘mother’ really stood for. He had to save her! Yes, his father’s abode from now on would always be a nursing home until his end. Tears came to Gideon’s eyes as he pushed back to the recesses of his mind where they belong, whatever little doubts that tried to push their way to the surface. Today, he had to save her at all cost- tomorrow the battles might be fierce, the decision gut-wrenching but today it was crystal clear to him, that he had to save her. "Tomorrow", when he is very old with time on his hands, racked with guilt and waiting on the grim reaper, as he sometimes imagined the many elderly that he encountered in the nursing homes. Tomorrow, he might be calling out to Benjamin and Naomi, as his father did earlier on, to forgive him for what he has done to their son- his father. Meanwhile, he had something to do today; he was going to damn well save her yet again.

Hannah knows that she should not interfere in Isaacs and his children’s relationship but ever since she met this sweet soul and saw the treatment meted out to him and knowing that she could not do anything to help emotionally; she vowed that when there on the weekends, she would act as his buffer against the verbal and physical abuse that he sometimes encountered. He would usually be very happy to have her there because they would talk until he was tired or when he would interject in the middle of the conversation, dryly and sleepily, Goodnight! On those occasions, she was happy to engage him in conversation because he was prone to be awake for most of the night and be bedeviled with thoughts of himself traversing to unknown places and of people doing harm to him. Hannah in turn would be up most of the night trying to calm him and soothe his fears. She did not mind being awake, but just how tortured he was during those episodes disturbed her profoundly.

For weeks Hannah had wondered about his sudden change in behavior after breakfast. He had a healthy appetite and he never left his meal unfinished. Then a CNA would come into the room and place the safety belt from the wheel chair around him, before she took him into the day room. This was done in order to prevent him from falling as would often happen whenever he attempted to stand by himself, as he and the other residents would often be left alone for short periods of time.

To Isaac, that belt represented confinement, prison. Hannah would observe him shifting in the chair and fiddling with the belt. Oftentimes she would try to soothe him, letting him know that the belt was placed there for his own protection, and then Isaac would shout out angrily that he did not want any restraint because he never committed a crime, that he was not a prisoner. Thereafter, CNAS would come into the room by twos or threes, according to the degree of Isaac’s agitation. Then he would be heard hollering as they’d take him away into the nurse’s station.

"That man is a troublemaker. They took him away to give him a shot in order to quiet him and he knows that—that’s why he is screaming, a voice once whispered. Hannah turned around and bumped into the male cleaner who had earlier helped her transfer Isaac from the bed to his wheel chair, But why-… He quickly cut her off by saying, This is the way things are done here. They are frequently short staffed so troublemakers get quieted down."

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Suddenly, Hannah feels a nudge. She turns around and she sees Gideon. She has to try once more, Please take him home, she pleads again. He ignores her. Ride with him to the nursing home, I’ll follow, he says crisply. The ambulance attendant looks at her with a knowing sympathetic smile, he has seen this all before; the emotional entanglement between an elderly patient and an aide. Most times these relationships end pleasantly, but there are times when they end tragically. He keeps on looking at the old man and then at the woman-he feels frustrated. He can usually tell something about the relationship, but this time he has no leverage. He shivers because he is overcome by an uneasy feeling.

Hannah feels her face flush with embarrassment, she had been told in the past that she should never get involved in family matters; that doing so was unprofessional and here she is doing it once again. The ambulance attendant sidles up to her and says, This is not your fight, let it go! That’s just how these people roll. Her mind races back to one of her patients that she attended to in the past. She saw things, she did nothing, the woman died and she blamed herself.

"Professionalism be damned" She swears, as she watches the attendant push the stretcher carrying the old man inside the ambulance, as though he is some object being carted off to some storage facility or warehouse, to linger there until…until…until. The aged driver gets behind the steering wheel of the vehicle and impatiently leans hard on the horn with his elbow, then the heavy set attendant dexterously hops into the back of the vehicle and at the same time extends his hand to her. She withdraws and begins to retreat.

She cannot do it—she knows that if she steps into the ambulance, her life as is will be all over. She has gotten too close to Isaac, having her own stereotypical opinions about all nursing homes; she will be on the losing end. She could never fight an institution and win. Some of the lower level employees that made up these organizations, (the cleaners, the cooks, the servers even some of the nurses), their cultural educational and social background saw to that. No, she could not fight an institution and win.

She knows from experience that the difficult and uncooperative residents who did not follow the orders of the overwrought workers were sometimes recipients of the pulled noses and hair. They being made to sit for hours in urine or sometimes feces-filled briefs, the dumping of the food or vital medication that the residents refused even on the second offer.

She would often watch with scorn as caregivers would reunite with aged relatives on weekends with bags full of goodies in hand, with balloons floating behind them. The reluctant young adult relatives and grand-kids would shuffle in with brightly painted on smiles. Many times she would surmise that they had all definitely taken a happy drug prior to their visit to a place that they would not willingly venture into. The guilt ridden bastards! Why else did they encourage an entourage, which would consist of long lost relatives, of second and third cousins, and babies, which they’d propel on the hapless residents tired or broken knees for that must have picture for posterity. The shoveling of ‘bad’ food and drinks in half closed mouths, the forcing of tired shuffling feet to dance that dance they danced, twenty five years ago at a wedding, the birth of the first grandchild.

Mom, Dad! Can’t you remember how you took charge of the dance floor back then? Pick up your feet! You can do it! comes the encouraging command. At no time would there be a meeting of the eyes; no one would look into those blurry, weary pleading glazed eyes. No one would peer into those windows of the soul. You dirty bastards! Take a look! See how broken they are? Feel them! Touch them, as they did you! Remember the many skinned knees and elbows? Who kissed them and magically healed them? Remember the puppy or gold fish?

Who consoled you and made you feel better when your pet died? Or what about the time in the middle of the night you demanded that your counselor arouse your parents from their much needed sleep to come and get you from the camp because you were afraid? The counselor had no choice because you were making such a ruckus. Then, you know what? Both your parents jumped into their car and drove to the camp to get you in the wee hours of the morning.

For years the story was told about the drive that should have taken three hours was done in record time. How much time? No one was ever told, because those parents of yours, those thoughtful caring people who rushed to get the unhappy kid, didn’t want to encourage anyone else to break the traffic laws, as they did.

Of course when they got to you, you were fast asleep, but your mother tenderly tucked you in your favorite blanket and, your dad, he gently lifted you up and took you to the car, softly kissing your forehead all the way. In