{"id":159456,"date":"2022-05-16T12:07:46","date_gmt":"2022-05-16T16:07:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=159456"},"modified":"2022-05-16T14:53:54","modified_gmt":"2022-05-16T18:53:54","slug":"diary-2019-berkeley-summit-hospital-oakland","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2022\/05\/16\/diary-2019-berkeley-summit-hospital-oakland\/","title":{"rendered":"Diary, 2019: Berkeley\/Summit Hospital, Oakland"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Photograph courtesy of Joyce Carol Oates.<\/p><\/div>\n

March 29, 2019
\nBerkeley\/Summit Hospital (Oakland)<\/p>\n

It is not true that for all persons the essential question is: Shall I commit suicide? But it is true for the widow.<\/p>\n

The placating fantasy, that makes possible those countless hours of bedside vigil. The beloved husband is asleep, or, if awake, not so very aware of you as you would wish. You are forced to see, as in an ingenious torture, how, moment by moment, diminishing second by second, you are being erased from the beloved\u2019s consciousness.<\/p>\n

When he looks at you without looking at\u00a0you.<\/em>\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

For the widow there is one looming question: Should you outlive your husband?<\/p>\n

For Widows Who Have Considered Suicide When Surviving is Not Enough <\/p>\n

\u201cHospice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Like a thread through the eye of a needle, swiftly in and swiftly out.<\/p>\n

At once the landscape alters.<\/p>\n

It is my hope: I will make of our hospice a honeymoon.
\nMy vow is to make my husband as comfortable as he can be. to make him happy. to fulfill whatever wishes we can for him, that are within the range of possibility.<\/p>\n

It is another possibility, that I might die with my husband. Or rather, short after my husband. In principle I would like to do this but in reality, surely I will not.<\/p>\n

The yearning to die with the husband is very strong. Perhaps it is more a yearning not to outlive the husband.
\nSitting beside him in his hospital bed. He has had a dosage of Dilaudid to control pain. He is partially asleep, partially awake. He speaks to me, with an air of urgency though his voice is soft. He asks me to locate a book. He asks me to order a book. On his lap is the morning\u2019s New York Times<\/em>.
\nThrough his adult life, he has read the New York Times<\/em> each morning. Thoroughly. He\u2019d begun reading the New York Times<\/em> as an undergraduate at Harvard in the fifties when he\u2019d told himself that, after he graduated, he would reads the Times<\/em> the first thing in the morning, not later, as he\u2019d had to do as a student.
\nNow, he doesn\u2019t do much more than glance at the Times<\/em>. But he likes to feel the weight of the paper on his lap. He likes the proximity of the paper. It is one of the constants of his life.<\/p>\n

Many times in Jan & Feb I encouraged him to call his doctor. Each time he would reply that he had an appointment with Dr. B\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span> \u00a0<\/span>on \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/span>\u00a0and that would be soon enough to see him.
\nNo, I told him. Please, no. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/span> is a week away. I think you are very sick right now.<\/p>\n

he ignores me. Laughs at me. The wife is the repository of weakness, and of emotion. The wife expresses fears that are groundless. Or, perhaps it\u2019s the case that, since the wife expresses such fears, they must be groundless.<\/p>\n

Still I encourage him to call his doctor. He refuses. Days pass, I am anxious, hearing him breathing painfully, audibly, knowing that he is in pain.<\/p>\n

\u201cI may be entering my Final Days.\u201d
\nGravely, matter-of-factly he begins to speak in this way.<\/p>\n

He begins to speak of \u201cmy final days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Final Days. The words strike terror into my heart. In a way I cannot believe that I am hearing such words. Matter-of-fact words. No.
\nYet there is something dignified, noble about such words. \u201cI may be entering my Final Days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Does he say these words in the hope that one of us will refute them?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PRESENT: blood drawn. (but why?) (to what purpose, bruising the already\u2014bruised arm another time?)<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know what our plans are?\u201d we ask him.
\n\u201cTo do vigorous exercises then \u2026 have lunch, \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201ca backup, swimming at the Y.\u00a0 instead of doing both.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201ctake me home. Where\u2019s the car? Give me the keys to the car.\u201d
\nHe speaks urgently, worriedly. His manner is not apparently delusional or \u201cdelirious\u201d\u2014he is speaking as one might, with concern, mild anxiety, but not unreasonably.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s only that there is no car, there is no key, the \u201chome\u201d he is referring to is 3,000 miles away in Princeton.<\/p>\n

Suddenly I am fearful that he hasn\u2019t really agreed to a hospice. Or, if he has agreed, he has forgotten. I say: \u201cDo you know what a \u2018hospice\u2019 is?\u201d
\n\u201cYes of course.\u201d
\n\u201cYou have agreed to a hospice, to suspend treatment at the hospital.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nBut does he really mean\u00a0yes<\/em>? He is likely to agree to anything. It is not always clear that he hears what I am asking him.<\/p>\n

My voice is breaking. The wife\u2019s voice breaks, it is difficult for her to comprehend these words she is speaking. As if someone else is writing these lines. Preposterous, that I am speaking.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joyce Carol Oates, a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, is the author of a number of novels, story collections, and books of poetry. Her most recent book is<\/em> Extenuating Circumstances: Stories.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cFor the widow there is one looming question: Should you outlive your husband?\u201d <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2247,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[68416],"tags":[7682,67827,26445,2015,2018],"class_list":["post-159456","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-diaries","tag-diaries","tag-featured","tag-hospital","tag-joyce-carol-oates","tag-widow"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nDiary, 2019: Berkeley\/Summit Hospital, Oakland by Joyce Carol Oates<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"May 16, 2022 \u2013 \u201cFor the widow there is one looming question: Should you outlive your husband?\u201d\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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