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MATTHEW O’CONNOR RETURNED TO CHARLOTTE two years ago after his father, Matt Sr., was diagnosed with terminal cancer. After major surgery and numerous chemo treatments, Matt Sr. was often bedridden, but seemed to be struggling by and getting better everyday.
During it all, Matthew’s mother Louise had been a rock. She never left her husband’s side, and saw to it that he got the best treatment possible.
It was only a month ago - Matthew recalled - that Louise first began to complain of fatigue.
“Your father’s doing great,” she told him. “I think I could use a vacation, though. I’m so tired all the time. Maybe when your father’s doctor says it’s okay we could all go on a cruise together. You think Niesha would come along?”
That was the last upbeat conversation Matthew would have with his mother.
A week later he talked with his mother by phone, just before he planned to pay his parents their regular weekend visit. She’d asked him to pick up some lunch on his way over to their Cotswold neighborhood home.
“Your father was talking about tilapia,” Louise said, a listless edge to her voice. “Would you stop by Harris Teeter and see if they have any fresh?”
“Sure,” Matthew had told his mom. “Anything else you’d like?”
“A baby green salad in a bag would be nice.”
“You got it, Mom. See you in an hour or so.”
“Thanks, Matthew.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“You feeling okay?”
“Just tired, honey. I’m alright.”
An hour later Matthew stood patiently outside the entryway that led from the carport to the kitchen, waiting for his mother’s smiling face to appear in the small window in the center of the door. Both of his parents had experienced some hearing loss in recent years, and Matthew had learned that they couldn’t always hear the doorbell. It was on those occasions that he’d fish the cell phone out of his pocket and ring up his family’s home phone.
“It’s me mom, I’m in the carport.”
She’d chuckle and make her way to the door as quickly as her two feet would carry her.
This time she didn’t chuckle.
“Matthew,” she said slowly. “I didn’t hear the doorbell. Be right there.”
As Louise opened the door, the sunlight spilled across her face, revealing an otherworldly yellow pallor.
Matthew could feel a gasp rising in his throat, but he didn’t want to alarm his mother.
“How good to see you again honey,” she said. “Come in.”
Matthew hugged his mother tightly. He knew her world was about to be turned upside down.
TWO WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE LOUISE O’CONNOR had been admitted to CMC-Mercy’s emergency facility with a case of jaundice that eventually led to a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, possibly operable, but the long-term survival rate didn’t look good. Matthew’s Aunt Magda had moved into his parents’ home to help with the care of Matt Sr. while Matthew had been spending nights with his mom at the hospital.
Early in the morning of the day following Louise’s admission, around five o’clock, Matthew was awakened abruptly when an attractive brown-skinned woman with a heavy southern accent entered the room and began screaming at the top of her lungs. He bolted straight up from the sleeping chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Miss O’Connor,” she shouted. “What you want for breffus’? Would you like a bistit?”
“Why are you shouting so loud?” Matthew asked.
“It says she’s hard of hearing on the chart on the door,” the woman responded, continuing in her loud voice.
“I’m not,” said Matthew. “And she’s not that hard of hearing. She could hear that from across the street.”
Matthew could hear strained laughter coming from his mother’s direction.
“Stop giving the woman a hard time, Matthew. She’s just trying to do her job.”
Louise directed her attention to the woman standing by her bed.
“He’s right - my hearing is diminishing - you don’t have to talk quite that loud, though. So what do we have good to eat this morning?”
The first few days at Mercy Hospital were a challenge for Louise. Bouts of abdominal seizures left her in constant pain. Even though the staff claimed they were doing all they could, Matthew couldn’t bear to see his mother in this condition, and begged the nurse on duty to give his mother something to ease the overwhelming discomfort.
“My hands are tied!” A bewigged nurse with a Caribbean accent responded angrily. “You keep asking me for help and I’m trying to do that, but the doctor has to give me the okay. I’m waiting for him to call me back now. The more you interrupt me, the longer it’s going to take!”
“Stop screaming at me,” Matthew shouted back. He could feel the blood rushing to his face.
“What do you want me to do?” asked the nurse as she threw her hands up in the air.
“Your job. Get some help for my mom. Now.”
As the days turned to weeks, Louise’s condition improved. With the help of staff and doctors, her spirits were up, and going home for a time prior to the surgery became a distinct possibility.
Matthew and Louise’s physician--a thirty-something Nigerian man with perfect teeth and a textbook-perfect bedside manner--talked quietly in the hallway outside her room.
“She’s doing well,” said Dr. DeNara. “I know the oncologist has said that she’s a candidate for surgery - but given her age, I think you and your family have some serious things to consider before we move forward.”
Matthew ducked back into the room.
“What did the doctor say?” Louise asked.
“He said you were doing good, Mom. We have some things to consider before the surgery, but you can probably go home for a while before the operation. They ask you about breakfast yet?”
Louise smiled.
“Yeah. And she didn’t scream this time.”
“Okay,” Matthew chuckled.
I’m gonna go downstairs and get something from the cafeteria so we can have breakfast together. I’ll be right back.”
“That sounds good, Matthew.”
MATTHEW STANDS PATIENTLY AS NITA WATSON WORKS DILIGENTLY AT THE CAFETERIA GRILL, preparing breakfast for staff and visitors.
“Whatchoo want, honey?”
“An omelet, with some onions and peppers and Swiss cheese.”
“Boy, you sound hungry. You want anything else with that?”
“Wheat toast.”
“Coming right up.”
As Nita scoops up a handful of peppers, Matthew notices something familiar in her face.
“I think I know you,” he says.
“Oh yeah? I think I might have seen you before, too. Where you go to school?”
“Myers Park.”
“I was there for two years.”
“You have Mr. Maniscalco for home room?”
“I sure did. You that boy that was on the annual staff that took pictures all the time?”
“That was me.”
“I remember you. You remember my cousin Niesha Campbell?”
Matthew laughs and rubs his jaw.
“Uh...yeah. Actually...quite well. We’ve been dating for the past six months.”
“Really?” Says Nita. “She didn’t tell me about that. But then I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“A lot has happened to Niesha in the past few months. A lot has happened to me in the past few months.”
Nita continues to mix the omelet on the grill while they converse.
“You working here?”
“No. My mom is here. She’s a patient--she’s got pancreatic cancer.”
“Honey, I’m sorry.”
“She’s doing better...we’ll see what happens...but thanks.”
“I hope she does okay.”
“I’m gonna grab some napkins. I’ll be right back.”
“That’s cool - I’ll have it ready for you in a few minutes.”
As Matthew rounds the corner to the counter where napkins, straws and condiments are kept, a familiar face suddenly appears in the main doorway.
“Niesha!”
“Matthew! How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s...having some good moments...but it’s not looking well.”
Niesha wraps her arms around Matthew - he pulls her close and tight.
“I’m so glad you’re here. This is so much. I feel like I’m going a little crazy.”
“I know. Tell me what I can do to help.”
~ David Moore
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