ADLs

ADLs

THE CABIN IN THE WOODS had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

Well, I suppose that’s one way to start a story, young man. What magazine did you say you?

No, I’ve heard of it.

But it’s no secret. No lurid tale of ghosts and goblins.

Well, of course, the candle was mine. I light one every year on our anniversary.

Oh, it’s not much. Just a modest little thing. A remembrance, if you will. In memory of a man whose name had been—

What—? No. No, it wasn’t. All those folks? In the paper? And on the news? Those dime store rags? Lies. It was all lies. And if you repeat them? You say them aloud? You give them air? Well then, you’re a liar, too. And you know what they do to liars? Or what they should…

Th-That’s alright, I-I’m sorry, too… But where are my manners? Forgive me, please. Sit. Sit down. Yes, that’s fine. That old couch’s seen better days. As have we all. You must forgive an old woman her bitter vitriol. Here, please, have some tea. I made enough for two.

Oh, I make too much. I always make too much. Here. Please.

Oh, you’re welcome. It’s hot, though. You might want to give it a minute.

And, again, I’m sorry. So sorry. The subject always digs at a nerve. Like at the dentist when he’s hovering over you with that drill, that high-pitched whine, just touching it in, a little here, a little there, enamel chips flying, and you’re just praying he doesn’t hit a nerve. You feel so hot, so helpless, so stifled you can barely breathe…

Me? No. I’ve never been good at dealing with it, either.

I am a nurse, though, and they always say nurses make the worst patients, don’t they?

Oh yes, I was his nurse.

What…? No, I was his home nurse and later, much later, his hospice nurse.

Yes, that’s right. Near the end. We just try to make them comfortable. Palliative care, it’s called.

No, I … I don’t know how to spell it.

Oh yes, I was there. I was right next to him.

He passed at the cabin, in that bed. Oh, it was a lovely bed. An old Victorian with smooth lacquered posts that reached almost to the ceiling. A magnificent piece. They say at auction it went for—

What—? Yes, yes. They were carved in the shape of … what are they called? Those birds, those leering birds staring down…

No, not vultures… Buzzards. Yes, that’s it. They were carved in the shape of buzzards.

No, they’re not the same thing, young man. And yes, he carved them himself.

Well, of course, he was a genius, after all. Everyone said so.

Yes, everyone, even his wife.

True, true, he was better known for his paintings, but Mr. Burke was simply a marvel at everything he put his mind to. I wish I’d met him before the stroke.

They’re called deficits. They robbed him of most of the use of his left leg and some of his right. He could stand with help, after a fashion, wash and dress, to some degree, but walking? No. That was a bridge too far. But he could always use his hands. Always…

What…?

They’re called ADLs. An anagram … or … or is it acronym? I’m not sure. I can never remember. Well, don’t ask me to spell it, either. It starts with the letter ‘A,’ that’s all I know.

Activities of Daily Living.

Oh, yes. Where’s my mind? Just the normal day-to-day functions a person needs to have some quality of life. Eating, dressing, toileting. And every patient has his own special needs.

Oh yes … yes indeed. John had his own wants, his desires, his own particular needs…

Yes. That’s right. There’s seven or eight of them depending on the textbook. In my day, we didn’t even have them. It was all hands-on teaching. In the hospitals, the VAs, the nursing homes. It’s important a nurse be skilled with her hands. To understand the delicate balance between pressure and pain. To know just how far you can push your patient.

Oh my, yes, it happens sometimes. If you’re not careful. Other times, though? They bring it on themselves…

Me…? I was a nurse for over fifty years. I’m retired now.

Oh … you know?

The internet…?

Yes, I was wondering how you’d found me.

I did change my name before I moved back. Before Mrs. Burke disappeared. Before all the hubbub. Before they dug up near half of the Burke Estate. It was a travesty. Truly. All those topiaries, the apple grove, the gardens—

What—? No. I think you misheard.

Well, fine, be that as it may, that’s what I meant. She left him. And good riddance, too. She was a spiteful woman, mean and nasty, you know that? But they never put that in the papers. They never said that on the TV. It was only ever about him. Only ever about—

What—? Yes. John Ellis Burke, that was his full name.

Burke…?

No, I … I didn’t know it was a … a what did you call it?

A euphemism? Well, no, I don’t even know what that is.

Another way of saying something? Well, I don’t know. Why not just say it the way it’s meant to be said? Seems like a lot of fuss and muss over molehills.

Pardon…? I’m a little hard of hearing. Scottish, you say? How did it go?

‘Burke the butcher, Hare the thief, Knox the boy that buys the beef?’

Hmm… Well, I don’t know. You tell me what it means. It sounds like some silly little children’s rhyme.

You’re saying ‘Burke’ means ‘murder?’

Well, no, I don’t see the relevance.

No, young man, I don’t care one whit if it’s an angle for your story. You’re just another one of those muck-rakers, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. You and that … that tasteless rag. Let me tell you something. There’s only pain buried there in the ground. And now, I’ll kindly ask you to leave.

What…?

Well, you are looking a mite peaked, I must say. Here. Sit back down. Yes, have some more tea. There. Good… It’ll settle your nerves.

You’re welcome. Just breathe slow and deep. It’ll pass. Slow, slow, and deep…

The cabin…? Well, that was our place. That’s why it was so special. That’s where we went to get away from all the nonsense.

My yes, it was quite a trek. Three hours by car, and that’s with no traffic. Then the driveway, unpaved and uphill, for a man in a wheelchair? But a nurse has to be strong. Strong of body, mind, and spirit. And lifting and moving the infirm? Transferring them? Oh, you learn little tricks. Leverage. Angles. Handholds. But even so, it’s a difficult thing moving a body, truly. People just don’t know. On TV, you’d think they just jump right up into your arms. But it’s tougher than all that. Bending over? Getting low? Getting a good grip? Even with help, it’s very difficult. And a live one can be just as difficult as—

What? His wife? Oh, she hated that cabin. Truly, I only recall her going there once.

What—? No, nothing’s funny. Just … just a fond memory, that’s all.

Well, I suppose you’re right. It’s your job to do just that. Ask tough questions. Poke and prod. And an important job it is, too. What would the busybodies have to read in the checkout line?

What’s that…? You’re slurring your words.

What…? Your arms now, too?

Easy. There, there. Relax. I simply can’t understand a word you’re saying. Slow. Slow down.

Oh my, no. Don’t you worry about the carpet. I’m an expert with stains. A few dabs of soda water, and lickety-split, it’ll come right out. But how’s your noggin? Did you bump it on the coffee table?

Good. I’m glad. The corners are rather sharp. I’m always catching my knees. But it’s a nice soft, thick carpet. C’mon. Let’s get you back up. Just relax, I’ve got you. Oh, don’t you worry. You’re just a slender little thing, like a baby bird, and I may be old, but I’m still strong. Or strong enough, anyway. And it’s all about leverage — watch your arm — and technique. That’s right. Good. There.

No, I won’t drop you. I promise. Oof…

This? Oh, it’s Mr. Burke’s old wheelchair. His Cadillac, he’d call it. Sometimes I like to sit in it myself. Even after all these years, it still has his smell. Here, let me get that. No, it’s just a bit of dirt.

What? No, we’re going to the car, young man.

Hush, hush. No. Here. Let me take that. You won’t get a signal up here, anyway. It’s one of the reasons I like it here. None of that internet business. Just me and my memories. That, and it’s so close to our cabin. You’ll see…

What? The hospital? No, no. It’s too far, too late, and my eyes just aren’t what they used to be.

No, to the cabin.

Yes, it’s right up the road, and you’ll get to report firsthand.

Yes, I thought you’d like that.

Well, John had to continue his work somewhere. And that required privacy.

Yes, his artwork. He could be a beast without his creative outlets. And, dear yes — of course — he couldn’t do it on his own. He needed help. He needed strength. He needed me.

Oh, don’t worry your empty little head. You’ll fit inside after I move the spare. There we go.

You’re not making any sense, young man. Just calm down. Watch your head.

Can you hear me? Listen. Please. Please stop. I know you can.

There. That’s better. Oh, don’t cry.

Just sit tight. I’ll whisper it in your ear — you have such thick, healthy hair — it’ll be our little secret.

Shush, shush now. None of that. No, your mommy can’t hear you. No one can.

Yes, be a good boy.

Yes… Yes…

You were right. It’s true. They found a few bodies buried down at the estate, under the gardens, in the orchards. Shhh… Watch your fingers. Hush. And they even found a few up at our cabin. But do you know what? They never even found half…