Our story continues from last month’s issue with Rachel just a few hours away from divorce court. Her assistant Kevin just presented her with an envelope containing the remaining effects of a resident who passed away the night before at the hospice-type facility where she is the director.

“He’s dead, Rachel,” Kevin leaned down to make sure his news connected with my brain. It had. I stiffened with shock and set the phone back on its base. “1:03 a.m. You need to call her now,” he added. “She went home last night sometime after midnight and no one wants to call her.”

I slumped back into my chair as Kevin gingerly lowered the envelope back on my pile so as not to trigger an avalanche, twirled on his heel and left. The news was eerily ironic, given that today was the death of my marriage.

I’m ashamed to say that I too dreaded a call to Mrs. Stone, but not for the same reasons as my staff. They assumed I vicariously held their pejorative opinion that she takes advantage of our facility, Afterglow Journey Center, and staff by her ubiquitous presence. Her husband, Russell Stone, is—was—our longest resident, and his “illness” was dubious at best.

We accepted Russell Stone because Mrs. Stone was a past board member of the umbrella organization that founded the center. Otherwise, his condition did not at all fit into our acceptance criteria. In fact, none of us are quite sure what his condition is, I mean, was. We were just notified by the chairman of the board about nine months ago that we were to make a room for him and treat him as any other resident.

This did not sit well with my staff. Angie, Mr. Stone’s nurse, felt there was nothing wrong with him; that he was faking his illness and was a waste of her time. I tried several times to assign another RN to relieve Angie of Mr. Stone, but her incessant moaning about him had by that time prejudiced all qualified candidates; soon the whole staff was singing the same song.

As administrator, I duly noted and addressed each complaint, but you must know that my reason for distancing myself from the Stones was more personal. The Stone’s were very nice people, he was polite with a quick wit and she was quiet with a sweet—almost too sweet—rosy perspective on everything. I say almost because it was like she didn’t quite have a grip on her situation.

Angie was the first to point that out. She had marched into my office after his first month with us, flopped down and just began raging about how Mrs. Stone was being duped by this man who was playing her for attention; she was convinced he was lazy and using his dear wife and our facility. I admit, from that angle it looked like Angie was right, so I decided to delve a bit deeper and get to know the Stone’s better.

After several conversations, Mrs. Stone confided to me that Mr. Stone’s “issue” was clinical depression and some trauma he had suffered as a boy. But when I asked more questions about their marriage, I was shocked to learn that Mrs. Stone served her husband of 23 years with a sacrificial love that enslaved her to a life of celibacy. I found it repulsive, especially because Mr. Stone seemed so much like Steve—my soon-to-be Ex; it was that piece of information that solidified my decision to file for a divorce. I refused to allow our marriage to play out like theirs.

To be continued….

(read part one online: www.communityword.com/doorsandwindows)