The Dead Don't Get Out Much. Mary Jane Maffini
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be a heart attack?”
“Wait for the doctor. No point in jumping to conclusions.”
I was saved from a further volley of Alvin's questions by a familiar and darkly handsome Emergency Room physician who attempted to slip past us without making eye contact.
I shot out of the molded plastic seat and sprinted after him. I caught up and grabbed him by the arm. “Not so fast, Doctor. We're waiting to hear if Mrs. Violet Parnell is going to be all right.”
He stopped and frowned. “I know you,” he said in the Newfoundland accent I was expecting.
“Well yes, we have met, Dr. Hasheem. It's not about me this time.”
“You're in Emerg a lot.”
“Not really. Just when something happens.”
He closed his eyes. “If I recall: concussion, concussion, smoke inhalation, shock, hypothermia. Am I missing anything? Another concussion perhaps? Oh, yes. Broken arm.”
“I'm fine today. This is not about me.”
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have a tendency to encounter dangerous people, places and things. That right?”
“At the moment, I'm avoiding danger in all its forms.”
“You look like you've lost weight.”
People kept commenting on that, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
“I dropped a size maybe. I was quite dizzy and nauseated after the concussions.”
“She forgot to eat,” Alvin said, sneaking up behind me. “In all the confusion of being evicted twice.”
“Thank you, Alvin. I'll handle this conversation.”
Dr. Hasheem's handsome forehead furrowed. “After what you've been through, you really must avoid all this stress. There can be lingering problems after concussion.”
“It's been two and a half months. I'm all right.” This was true enough, except for a tendency to wake up screaming in the night.
“It's not very long in recovery terms,” he said.
“Look, I don't want to talk about me. I want to know what's happening with Mrs. Violet Parnell. She's been here for hours. Has anyone even been in to see her? Why couldn't we stay with her?”
I guess Dr. Hasheem didn't get to his unenviable position without demonstrating a certain stubbornness. “I'd say you have to take it easy for more like six months to a year. Moving is a big stressor. Maybe you should try not to get evicted again.”
“Great advice. Let me repeat. Mrs. Violet Parnell was brought in by ambulance from the veteran's ceremony. Is it a stroke?”
Dr. Hasheem raised an eyebrow. “That's your diagnosis?”
I said, “Not that I would know.”
Alvin added, “She collapsed at the reception for the veterans after the Remembrance Day ceremonies.”
“Hmmm. And what relationship is Mrs. Parnell to you?” Dr. Hasheem asked.
“Grandmother,” Alvin said.
“And to you?” Dr. Hasheem asked me.
Alvin blurted, “I mean, she's Camilla's grandmother.”
“And her relationship to you?” he asked Alvin.
“Aunt. Great-aunt.”
“Great-great-aunt,” I said at the same time.
“Really great aunt,” Alvin said.
“Any other family here?” Dr. Hasheem asked, massaging his temple.
“We're her only family.” As far as I knew, this was the truth.
“I remember your sisters.”
“They're not available.
“She should never have marched in that parade,” Alvin said.
Dr. Hasheem said. “We're doing the diagnostics on that. She's a smoker? And a drinker?”
“Well, I wouldn't call her a drinker,” I said.
“We're going by the information she gave us.”
I said, “She enjoys life.”
Alvin added, “And we enjoy her company.”
Dr. Hasheem scratched his chiselled chin. “Sorry to break this to you, but smoking and drinking are major factors in heart disease.”
I said, “What's the prognosis?”
“We have to wait for the diagnostics. You have to take into consideration that she's an old lady.”
Alvin said, “That's not a very nice thing to say.”
I said, “She's so full of life. And she's sharp.”
“That may be,” Dr. Hasheem said. “At eighty-three, with that profile, and with her symptoms, she's a prime candidate for cardiac arrest.”
Alvin said, “What will that mean? Will she be stuck in a wheelchair? She'll raise hell if she is.”
Frankly, I thought it would take more than a wheelchair to hold back Mrs. P., but we were in unfamiliar territory here.
Alvin kept on babbling. “Although if it was a motorized wheelchair, she might like that. If it went fast enough.”
Dr. Hasheem said, “The outcomes can vary. But we'll have to monitor her for a couple of days. The good news is she got here quickly. The first thirty minutes is what counts. Might have been different if she'd been alone instead of in a room full of people.”
Alvin said, “I think it was the shock.”
“Shock?” Dr. Hasheem said. “Did something happen to bring this on? We should be told in that case.”
I said, “Something upset her. We're not sure what.”
“She had trouble with a dead man,” Alvin said.
“A dead man? Well, I think we can rule that out as a causal factor,” Dr. Hasheem said. “Although, sometimes a blockage can cause people to appear to hallucinate.”
I opened my mouth, but he'd already vanished in a puff of smoke. Or maybe it was behind the door of an examination room.
* * *
Eons later, we received an update. Not a happy update, for sure. Still, not as bad as it might have been. According to Dr. Hasheem, she'd need rest, medication and a mending of her ways. In hospital.
“No smoking. Alcohol in moderation.”
“Sure, like that's going to happen,” I muttered.
Dr. Hasheem overheard. “It better happen. And, she shouldn't be alone, it goes without saying. We'll keep her here for observation for a couple of days, run some more tests. When she's released, she'll either require a convalescent home or a twenty-four hour caregiver. She shouldn't be by herself. You might want to get started on those arrangements for your grandmother,” Dr. Hasheem said.
As soon as he had snapped the file shut and vanished again, Alvin said, “Lord thundering Jesus.”
“No kidding,” I said.
“I don't think he really understands what type of person Violet is.”
We were both trying to imagine the impact of Mrs. P. on some unsuspecting convalescent home.
“I'm surprised they let her back into this particular hospital after the last time,” I said.
“Come on, Camilla, everyone's entitled to a couple of parties,” Alvin said.
“They can be pretty stuffy in the ICU. Anyway, I don't