Being Mortal

(Martin Jones) #1

Gradually,though,hefoundwaystoadapt.Shelleyand
TomhadaChineseShar-PeinamedBeijing,andLouand
thedog becamedevotedcompanions. Sheslept onhis
bedwithhimatnightandsatwithhimwhenhereador
watchedTV. Hetook her on walks.If shewasin his
recliner,he’dgogetanotherchairfromthekitchenrather
than disturb her.


Hefoundhumancompanions,too. Hetookto greeting
the mailman each day, and they became friends. The
mailman played cribbage, and he started coming over
everyMondaytoplayonhislunchhour.Shelleyhireda
youngmannamedDavetospendtimewithLou,aswell.
Itwasthesortofpreengineeredplaydatethatisalways
doomedtofailure, but—gofigure—theyhititoff.Lou
played cribbage with Dave, too, and he came over a
couple afternoons a week to hang out.


Lousettledinandimaginedthatthiswouldbehowhe’d
liveout therest ofhisdays.But whilehemanaged to
adjust, Shelley found the situation steadily more
impossible.Shewasworking,lookingafterthehome,and
worryingaboutherkids,whohadtheirownstrugglesas
theymadetheirwaythroughhighschool.Andthenshe
had to look after her dear but frighteningly frail and
dependentfather.Itwasanenormousburden.Thefalls,
forexample,neverstopped.He’dbeinhisroomorinthe
bathroomorgettingupfromthekitchentable,whenhe’d
suddenlypitchoffhisfeetlikeatreefalling.Inoneyear,
hehadfourambulanceridestotheemergencyroom.The
doctorsstoppedhisParkinson’smedication,thinkingthat
mightbetheculprit.Butthatonlyworsenedhistremors
andmadehimyetmoreunsteadyonhisfeet.Eventually,

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