FALLING STARS
Chapter Thirty-One
August 6, 1970
Rose lay down beside Jack, wrapping her arms
around him. He hugged her back, only half-aware of what was going on. Half
asleep, he leaned back against the stack of pillows and closed his eyes.
Rose sighed, settling closer to him. Jack’s
heart had grown progressively weaker since his heart attack over a year and a
half earlier. He suffered from congestive heart failure, and often had trouble
breathing, hence the pile of pillows to keep his head elevated. He found
breathing easier in that position.
Rose rested her head against his shoulder,
trying to fall asleep herself. She was worried about Jack. Despite the use of
several medications, his heart was still growing weaker, and she knew that it
was only a matter of time before it gave out completely. His health had
improved somewhat when the doctor had convinced him to give up smoking, but too
much damage had been done for it to be reversed. They had looked into the
possibility of surgery, but the doctor had told them that Jack’s physical
condition was too poor for it to be risked, and that he was likely to live
longer without surgery.
She closed her eyes, moving her head to her
own pillow. There wasn’t really anything either of them could do, but it didn’t
stop her from worrying.
*****
Jack awoke suddenly, clutching his chest. A
glance at the clock told him that it was just past four AM. He tried to sit up,
but the pain overwhelmed him, shooting down his left arm and radiating into his
jaw.
He knew immediately what it was--another
heart attack. His first heart attack had been mild, but it was an experience he
had never forgotten. This was worse--much worse.
He reached out with his right arm and shook
Rose, rousing her from sleep.
"Hmm?" she asked, turning over.
"Jack? What’s wrong?"
"I...think...I’m having...a...heart
attack."
"Oh, my God." Rose sat up, suddenly
wide-awake. "How long has this been going on?"
"I...just...woke up."
"Hang on," she told him, reaching
for the phone on her bedside table. "I’m going to call an ambulance."
She quickly dialed 9-1-1, explaining to the
dispatcher what was going on, keeping a sharp eye on Jack the whole time. When
he began gasping for breath, she begged the dispatcher to hurry and send an ambulance.
Jack collapsed just before the ambulance
reached their home. Rose tried to resuscitate him--she had learned CPR and
first aid the year before, following Jack’s first heart attack--but to no
avail. When the paramedics arrived, she sat back helplessly, watching as they
tried to shock his heart back into functioning.
*****
Rose rode in the ambulance with Jack to the
hospital. The paramedics had managed to get his heart beating again, but it
stopped after a few minutes.
She sat in the waiting room, her hands
clenching and unclenching around the arms of the chair, waiting. She knew that
there was little hope, but wouldn’t allow herself to accept it. She and Jack
had been together for fifty-eight years; it couldn’t just end like this. She
was still strong and healthy, and would probably live for years yet. Rose
didn’t want to face the prospect of living those years without Jack.
After two hours, the doctor finally came into
the waiting room. Rose saw the grim expression on his face, and knew without
asking what he was going to say.
"Mrs. Dawson?"
Rose nodded, mutely.
"I’m sorry, Mrs. Dawson. Your husband
didn’t make it."
Rose just nodded, unable to form a response.
All of the years she and Jack had spent together flashed through her mind,
lingering on important moments. Fifty-eight years, that were now over.