Tenacity

Afternoon

At 4:45PM I find myself sitting at Lara's bedside, holding her cool fingers in my hand. There is no response in any way. She looks terminal - no two ways about it - and even more so then this morning. Her hands are slighly swollen (she took off her wedding ring in time) which indicates lower kidney activity. Her body feels cool and lifeless, the muscles in her face are fully relaxed, her head tilted to the left with her cheek buried in the large green pillow. She now carries quite an amount of sedatives in her body, while more is being pumped into her on a continual basis with hourly bonuses added for good measure.

How long is this going to go on for, I ask our doctor? My mind is on the evening hours when I will be pulling night duty again like yesterday. It is beginning to get to me, this whole process, I have to admit. "A matter of hours", is the answer, and I don't want to even think of being the lawyer asking how many hours we are actually looking at. I will have to take it as it comes. At a blood pressure of 6 over 3, it can not last much longer though.

I find myself telling her again and again that it is allright for her to go, that she is all set to depart, and that nobody here on earth is holding her back. True, I tell her, I will miss her terribly as a soul mate and husband, a friend and companion, a lover and a confidante - and nobody will be able to fill that void or take that place. Then there will be plenty of memories of so many things we did together: crazy and brilliant ones, transient and durable, wicked and benign, silly and serious. And so I whisper in her ear more and more.

Lacher prise. That is what the French call 'loosen your grip'. For Lara to let go, or to give up control, is almost anathema. And so she holds on to dear life, for as long as she can - until the odds become truly overpowering. Survival instinct is one of the most deeply rooted; and with instincts, as I keep repeating, you don't negotiate.

People and medics have asked me repeatedly if I was ready to stay with a deceased Lara in the apartment by myself for the whole night, if it came to pass. Each tiime I gave the same answer: that I did not see the problem; that, to me, between the two of us, it was tantamount to the ultimate intimacy.

Our doctor passes by at 8:45PM and shakes her head. I have never ever seen such tenacity in the face of death, she says. She is supposed to be well on her way to a preplanned demise, deep deep under cover. But she is still with it, although soundly asleep, but hardly more than that.