The Obituary
By Wesley L. Leigh

(continued)

A feeding tube would help, but was not specified in the patient's living will. Complicating matters, Mr. Beasley was a full code with no provisions for comfort care. The dementia that poisoned his mind began insidiously, before small details could be worked out. Dr. McKinley shook his head in frustration. The situation was ill-fated either way, he thought.

The doctor's midnight rounds continued in room two. A peaceful sense of well-being touched his spirit the moment he entered Ms. Long's room. Though dark, he visualized the old woman's frame supine on the bed, eyes unflinchingly open. He drew close and placed his worn stethoscope on her motionless chest. Hearing only silence, he placed the instrument in his pocket and smoothly closed her lids with his right hand. Deceased, she had finally gotten her wish and joined her late husband on the other side. With a DNR in place and all her worldly business in order, the good doctor quietly left the room. He would inform the nurses of her death later, before leaving the west wing.

It was a quarter to one in the morning by the time Dr. McKinley checked on his final patient for the night, Mrs. Helen Bates. Out of all the physicians at Crescentview, Mrs. Bates cherished Dr. McKinley the most. She most enjoyed his patience and intuitive nature. He often knew her concerns before she even had a chance to relate them. On this particular night, she found herself suffering from a mild case of anxiety. It took the doctor less than a minute to get to the root of the problem. She was lonely. As they sat and talked, she caressed Dr. McKinley's hand in gratitude. Before long she was feeling back to herself and laughed aloud at her earlier setback. Her high-spirited chatter was overheard by Ruth, the night supervisor, who eventually made rounds to check on her condition.

"Helen, is that you I heard in here?" Ruth asked.

"Yes, who else would it be?" Mrs. Bates replied in her usual witty manner.

"Who were you talking to?" Ruth inquired, neatly tucking the older woman in bed.

"Dr. McKinley," Mrs. Bates said. "Is he still out there?"

"No, he's not…" the head nurse hesitated. "He talked to you tonight?"

"Of course," Mrs. Bates answered. "He talked me out of the rather foul mood I was in earlier. He cast away the demons, so to speak."

"Ms. Bates, I'm afraid that's — that's not possible."

"Whatsoever do you mean?" Mrs. Bates sat up in bed. "You're gravely mistaken. He just..."

"Mrs. Bates," Ruth interrupted. "Dr. McKinley has been dead for over 20 years. His obituary's posted in the main lobby. It has been since he passed. There's absolutely no way he could have spoken to you tonight."

"Oh, my," Mrs. Bates sighed, looking over the nurse's shoulder. "Then who's that standing behind you?"