Page 16 of Who We Think We Are

K ate has a good night’s rest and allows herself to be lazy and recover from jet lag the day after she arrives home. Late morning, Kate texts Mikelia: “I had to come home, but I’ll be going back to the Netherlands to search for Oma’s baby. I don’t know exactly when, but I’ll let you know.”

Mikelia replies: “Depending on when that is and what’s happening at work, I’d love to help. So, if I can, I will. Just let me know, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Then, Kate calls Suze: “Hi, Suze, I’m home. Do you have time to have lunch with me tomorrow? We can talk about what to do regarding the nonprofit and what to tell the board.”

“Hi, Kate, welcome home. I thought you were staying longer.”

“Kelli wanted to come home, so I brought her. And I need to talk to you and Grandad. Then I’ll be heading back.”

“World traveler!”

“Air miles and points. I can finally benefit from all the years of corporate travel. So can you do lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure. There’s a new restaurant downtown. Schneider’s. See you there at noon?”

“OK, see you then.”

The next day, when Kate is driving to the restaurant, it is pouring rain.

The kind of rain that soaks your clothes, and your umbrella barely keeps your head dry.

She walks a few blocks from the parking lot and is drenched when she walks into Schneider’s.

Suze is already seated at the back. Kate taught Suze that trick.

When you want to have the upper hand, arrive first and get a table at the back of the restaurant.

Make people come to you. Kate can see she’s walked into an ambush.

The restaurant is not Jewish; it’s German.

Stained glass windows, white plaster walls, dark beams, and beer steins on shelves.

Suze is being symbolic in her attack. Should I turn around and leave?

No. I’m sure I deserve whatever I’ve got coming to me.

“Hi, Kate.” Suze doesn’t get up. “Have a seat.”

“German. Nice touch.”

“I thought so.”

A server wearing a traditional dirndl dress takes their drink orders: Earl Grey tea for Kate and coffee for Suze.

“What is the most typical German thing on your menu?” asks Suze.

“I suppose sauerkraut, sausage, and spaetzle,” says the server.

“Great! I’ll have that. What’ll you have, Kate?”

“The bierock sounds good. That’s a German meat pie, right? I’ll have that with a side salad.”

When the server leaves, Kate takes a deep breath and tells herself not to be defensive. She turns to Suze, “You’re pissed off at me, and I’m in trouble.”

“And let me tell you why, because you are too self-absorbed to get it on your own. First, there’s the obvious stuff. I feel betrayed. My family and I are Jewish, and we have been lied to for years.

“I am hurt and angry for Bubbie and her mother, Sarah, who were German Jewish refugees and Holocaust victims. Oma and Grandad lied to them from the beginning when they thought they were in a safe place with safe people. But I could let go of that; you didn’t know any of that, and Oma was never mean or unkind to them.

“But what I can’t excuse or tolerate is you thinking only of yourself, never thinking about the impact these discoveries would have on me, my family, and the nonprofit.

You didn’t include me, trust me, or try to work on this together.

You just left me out and treated me as one more person to control and manage.

“You lied to me about why you were going to Holland and why you didn’t want to do our apology ritual.

And when it suited your needs, you finally called me to talk, but only because you needed your best friend.

Not once did you think about what your part is in being a best friend, a cousin, and a partner in our nonprofit.

“I didn’t say anything the day you went to the archives because you were so upset. I didn’t want to kick you when you were down. So, I waited till you came home.”

Suze stands up. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to have a conversation with you again—I am so unbelievably pissed off I can hardly look at you—but it certainly won’t be until you sincerely own the impact of your choices and will speak honestly and openly about it all.

“Auf Wiedersehen. I hope you enjoy your German lunch!” Suze stomps out of the restaurant.

Kate wants to apologize, defend herself, or at least explain, but Suze is gone, and she wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. The server brings their lunch, and Kate says, “We won’t be eating lunch today; I’m so sorry. Please take it back to the kitchen and bring me the check.”

Kate drives directly from the restaurant to Grandad’s nursing home with a cacophony of mixed messages cycling through her brain.

Suze has never blown up at me like this.

I’ll wait a few days and give her a chance to cool off.

She’s not being fair. I should have known Suze would get upset if I left her out.

I forget how sensitive she is. I deserved that. I’ve been a shit …

Kate opens the door to Grandad’s room and walks in without knocking, as always.

The room is almost dark, with the curtains closed against the gray, wet sky.

Grandad is dangling in midair in a patient transfer hoist, eyes closed, head drooping to one side, and mouth hanging open.

Two RNAs, who look like they’re about thirteen years old, are lowering him onto his bed.

“What’s going on!? What’s wrong with Grandad?”

“Please, ma’am, let us get your grandfather safely into bed,” says one of the RNAs. “Please wait out in the hall.”

“I will not.”

“Then please stand out of our way,” says the RNA.

Kate moves to the corner and watches as they lower Grandad onto the bed, disentangle him from the hoist, plump up a stack of pillows behind his head, and put blankets over him. The older of the two RNAs tells Kate, “I’ll go get the nurse.”

“Tell me what’s going on!”

“I’ll get the nurse to talk to you right away,” says the RNA, darting out of the room as quickly as she can.

Kate rushes over to Grandad and kisses him on the forehead.

“What is going on, Grandad? You’re not giving up on me, are you?

You can’t! I need you. You’re the last person on earth who loves me unconditionally.

I can’t lose you now, too!” She wipes her tears off his cheeks.

She pulls a chair up next to the bed and holds his hand, stroking it lightly.

Kate texts Jake: “Please come to Grandad’s. He’s not well. And please bring me dry clothes.”

Jake replies: “I’ll be right there!”

A few minutes later, the nurse walks in. “Hi, Kate! Why is it so dark in here? It’s the middle of the day!” He opens the curtains and turns on some lamps. “That’s better. I hear you got quite a scare. You’ve never seen your grandfather in the hoist, have you?”

“Hi, Stephen. I’m glad it’s you.” She has known Stephen since Grandad and Oma moved into the nursing home five years ago.

He is a tall, handsome fiftyish man with curly, silvery black hair and an apparently endless supply of tropical shirts and fancy shoes.

Kate and her family have even bought him shirts when they’ve gone on vacation.

“No, I’ve never seen Grandad in the hoist. Only Oma. When I saw him last, he was standing on his own two feet. What is going on? The RNAs wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Your Grandfather has stopped eating and drinking, Kate. And he’s refusing to take his medication.”

“Is he trying to kill himself?” Kate rubs Grandad’s hand, tears starting to flow down her cheeks.

“No, he’s not. He just says he’s not hungry or thirsty, and he can’t swallow his medication.

I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Kate. He’s declining rapidly.

It’s good you’re here this afternoon. The doctor will be dropping by, and since you’re his medical power of attorney, she’ll need to talk to you.

She should be here within the hour. I’ll let you know when she’s here.

You look like you’ve been dragged through the mud.

Do you need a set of scrubs or something to put on? ”

“Thanks, Stephen, but I’m good. Jake is bringing me some dry clothes.”

“Tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, then?”

“You know, hot chocolate would be amazing. I haven’t had one of those in years.

Grandad used to make me hot chocolate when I had walked home from school in the rain.

With Oma, it was always tea and a cookie; with Grandad, hot chocolate.

” Kate wipes away the tears that just keep coming.

It’s not so much that she’s crying as that her eyes keep leaking.

“Hot chocolate it is, then. And an egg salad sandwich?”

“You know the way to my heart, Stephen.”

“Sorry, dear, I’m taken!” Stephen laughs, opening the door to leave the room. “You know that!”

“But a girl can always try. Anyway, I’m taken, too.” Kate’s tears have finally stopped. Thank God for good nurses.

A few minutes later, the RNA from earlier brings hot chocolate and an egg salad sandwich cut into triangles.

“Thanks,” says Kate. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. What’s your name? I can’t read your name tag.”

“Alexandra,” says Alexandra.

“Well, thanks for the sustenance, Alexandra.”

“I know you were scared earlier. It’s scary seeing someone we love unconscious, hanging in midair.”

“That’s for sure. Thanks again.”

Kate drinks her hot chocolate and eats her sandwich while she holds Grandad’s hand. This is the sort of time that she would have normally texted Suze. But this is not a normal time. She sits quietly with Grandad and, after a few minutes, falls asleep.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” whispers Jake, kissing Kate on top of her head.

“Oh, hi, Jake. I fell asleep.”

“I can see that. I saw Stephen in the hallway. He asked me to tell you that the doctor has arrived. She should be here in a few minutes. Yes, I brought your clothes.”

“Thanks, Jake. I’m going to change before the doctor gets here. My clothes are soaked. You even brought slippers. Thanks!”

“I figured you might be spending the night, so I brought some sleepover stuff. What’s going on with Grandad?”

Kate’s voice wavers, and her tears start again. “He’s declining. I guess we’ll know more when the doctor talks to us. Will you stay, please?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll take notes, too, so you won’t have to try to remember everything.”

Kate slips into the washroom and changes into a black turtleneck, yoga pants, and a black-and-white zebra-patterned shawl.

“Good choice,” says Kate when she returns.

Jake chuckles. “It’s hard to go wrong, Kate. Pick a top and pants the same color, black, brown, navy, forest green, gray, or taupe, and a scarf or shawl to match.”

“I’m that predictable, am I?”

“You know you are, dear. But you always look elegant. Or is it sophisticated?”

“Both, I hope.”

“You hope what, Kate?” asks Dr. Modi, breezing into the room, not waiting for an answer. “I’m glad you’re here. If I could get you two to sit over there, I can give your grandfather an examination.”

When she’s done, Dr. Modi says, “Let’s go sit out in the lunchroom. It’s empty right now.” Kate and Jake follow her, and they sit at a table. Jake brings them all a cup of tea from the self-help counter.

Dr. Modi gets right to it. “Your grandfather has declined quite quickly over the past week, Kate. We don’t know why he’s not eating and drinking, but he’s not.

So, he’s getting weaker. We always knew he was hanging on well past what we expected.

If this continues, we could be looking at a continued descent. ”

“So, what is it, Dr. Modi?” asks Kate. “His diabetes, kidney failure, congestive heart failure, high blood pressure?”

“All of those, none of those, just plain old age, grief—who’s to know? Without doing a bunch of tests, we can’t say for sure. That’s why I wanted to talk with you. My understanding is that your grandfather doesn’t want any further treatment for any of his conditions.”

“That’s right. It’s been that way for quite a while.”

“You’re right, it has. But now your grandfather is not eating or drinking, so that changes things. I’m suggesting that we place him on hospice-level care, which is not really that different than the care he gets now.”

“Then what is different?”

“Well, the first thing is we’ll cut down on his insulin if he’s not eating, and I’ll prescribe a painkiller by injection if he can’t swallow.

And if he doesn’t want his other meds, we won’t try to get him to take them.

For now, that’s all we’ll change. And, according to the living will in his file, no further diagnostic tests or trips to the hospital. ”

“What’s his prognosis?” Kate’s heart is in her throat.

“That depends on whether he’ll eat and drink. It’s up to him. If he doesn’t, then we’re looking at days, not weeks.”

“Oh, he’ll eat and drink, alright. Those are the exact same words the doctor used for Oma. Grandad is not dying right now.”

“We all knew this was going to happen sometime, Kate. He’s ninety-five.

But sometimes, when someone is placed on hospice-level care, they rally.

That could happen here, too. Let him eat or drink whatever he wants.

Worrying about his blood sugar is moot at this point.

And anyone who wants to see him should visit soon, while they can still have a conversation with him.

If they wait, they may just end up sitting with him while he’s unconscious.

If he doesn’t want to eat, he won’t. You can’t make him eat and drink if he doesn’t want to, Kate. ”

“The hell I can’t. I know his favorites. I’ll get him wanting to eat!”

“Well, if anyone can, it’s you.” Dr. Modi stands up to leave. “Of that, I have no doubt. You know how to find me if you need me.”

By the time Dr. Modi leaves the room, Kate is already writing a shopping list.