In the Midst of Life

situation.
    In September, the building society obtained an order for distraint. The house would be repossessed and sold to recover the loan the society had made. Slavek didn’t really understand what had happened until the bailiffs arrived and ordered him and his mother out of the premises. The district nurse arrived at the same time, and, as no provision had been made for the old lady, she took control of the situation and a week’s grace was allowed.
    The Court Order was the first news Karen had of the financial crisis. She was utterly distraught and rushed over to see Slavek. How had it happened? It couldn’t have happened suddenly. Theremust have been warning letters. Where were they? Slavek rummaged around amongst a pile of unopened letters and produced a couple.
    ‘You fool!’ shouted Karen. ‘Why didn’t you let me know? Why did you ignore them? Now look what’s happened. We are going to lose our home. Don’t you understand? They are going to take our home away and sell it. We will be homeless.’
    At last Slavek understood. But it was too late. There was nothing either of them could do. Karen returned to her mother, and stayed there. Slavek moved into a men’s hostel, and drink took over his life.
    As soon as the nurse informed the council of the eviction order, they assumed responsibility for Mrs Ratski. She was taken to a short-stay home for the elderly, but was terrified by the new surroundings, and became so disruptive that she had to be moved. This was a pattern that repeated itself several times. With each new move she thought she was going to be poisoned and wouldn’t eat or drink. With puny strength she fought the staff and other residents and had to be forcibly restrained.
    Mrs Ratski ended up in a psycho-geriatric ward where she could be kept under nursing care and more or less continuous sedation. All her fear, suspicion and aggression faded away and she became quiet and docile. She no longer resisted the nurses, and meekly swallowed the tranquillisers, and everything else that was given to her. Every so often she developed a chest infection or a kidney infection and obediently she swallowed the antibiotics. She lived like this for three years, not able to understand where she was, or how she had got there; maybe not even who she was. She could not speak to anyone, nor comprehend a word that was said to her. She had no visitors. The hospital chaplain arranged for a Latvian priest to come, but she stared at him strangely and did not speak. Her loneliness and isolation were more total and more terrible than if she had been transported to a distant planet inhabited by aliens.
    The end came in 1957 when she fell out of bed and broke her pelvis. It was virtually impossible for the pelvic bone to mendbecause it could not be immobilised. An operation was performed to try to pin the bone, but the wound did not heal, and staphylococcal infection developed, which did not respond to antibiotics. Generalised septicaemia set in. From this, Mrs Ratski died, alone, in the brittle whiteness of an English hospital.
    This is a family tragedy that could only have been prevented by the old lady’s death. Yet there is not a doctor in the civilised world who would fail to treat a simple intestinal obstruction. Nor, I think, are there many lay people who would say, ‘Leave her alone – she must die.’ No one could have foreseen that it would lead to the break-up of a family, and the downfall of a goodman.

RETIREMENT
     
    It’s some years since
    I felt my servant’s discontent;
    The vigour of his service seemed to pall.
    I noticed this without undue dismay
    At first.
    The sometime faltering foot
    Or wheezing breath
    Or jack-knife on the exit from a car —
    All brushed beneath the carpet
    Of my mind —
    An easy-going master.
    But the incidents grew more
    Till, patience fled, I turned on him,
    Upbraided him with negligence, or worse.
    He said: ‘Your lifetime, now
    I’ve been your faithful slave,
    Attending to your every need,
    Drew in clean air for you
    And made your blood,
    Remodelled you from food,
    Ejected what was not required,
    Enabled you to see and hear
    This varied world;
    Gave you mobility,
    Produced your thoughts and passions.
    But now, at last, I’m weary,
    Wish to rest,
    Return to earthand air
    Which nourished me,
    As all things must,
    While you go free.
    What say you, master?
    Will you grant me my release?’
    ‘That is not mine to do,’
    I countered;
    ‘I serve too;
    I serve one