The Last Outing

Mrs. Shouppe died yesterday, closing an interesting chapter in my life. She was 94, old enough to be my mother, but we were more like good friends.

I cannot forget the last time I took her to see the opthalmologist. We had already cancelled and rescheduled at least once. It was time for a complete eye exam. She tried to talk herself out of going, but I talked her into keeping the appointment.

We arrived at the doctor's office to find they had moved the waiting room. This didn't sit well with her but the girls at the desk were kind and helpful and directed us to the end of a long hallway. Long, because by now every step for Mrs. Shouppe was painful and slow. I looked around for a wheelchair. None was available so I borrowed a desk chair on rollers.

Here we go, she is in the desk chair, feet dangling and with her enormous purse, which she used as a filing/medicine cabinet, and my big purse, which would easily serve as an overnight bag, piled in her lap. I held her cane under my arm and tried to manipulate the wobbly chair that wanted to dart back and forth across the hall. Just before we got to the waiting room, a sweet technician directed us to an examination room.

Suddenly, Mrs Shouppe is cold, so I take off my shirt and cover her shivering shoulders. It's a good thing I wore this top shirt to cover my fluff which is now fully exposed by my slightly too snug knitted top. Now we face the task of getting her in the examination chair. The step is too high. After a couple of tries, the technician and I drag her backwards into the chair. The technician leaves us alone in the exam room. Mrs. Shouppe's little feet are dangling and going to sleep so she sends me to search for telephone books to slip under them.

All fixed now, Mrs. Shouppe has to use the restroom. She slides easily out of the exam chair into the rolling desk chair and down the hall we go, she with the purses, I with the cane, under my arm, trying to guide the wobbly chair. The restrooms are back up the long hall, across the length of the original waiting room into a confined hallway. The restroom has a heavy door opening out into the hall.

We arrive at the restroom just in time. I hold the heavy door open for her. She goes in and I'm left to guard the purses. At last she comes out. I try to hold the door open, retrieve the cane she forgot, grab the purses from the desk chair while keeping it from rolling out from under her. Having so much to synchronize, I accidently let the door go prematurely and it slaps her on the bottom. She screams and here comes a nurse and a young man with a wheelchair.

Back in the exam room and back in the chair, the technician begins the exam. Suddenly Mrs. Shouppe becomes faint and begins to gag. A nurse rushes in with cool wet clothes, and I retrieve a throw up bag from her purse.

"I just want to go home!" she says.

I try to tell her this will not take long and we can be on our way.

"I just want to go home!! she repeats several times.

The doctor arrives early, ready to dialate her eyes.

"No! No!" she shouts, "I've told you I don't want that done again".

I try to explain that that it is necessary for her exam.

"I just want to go home!!" she says a little louder this time.

The exam is terminated and we prepare to go.

Wrapped in my oversized shirt, still shaking, Mrs. Shouppe is pushed to the car by a nurse while I settle things at the check out desk.

When I get to the car, Mrs. Shouppe is lying back in the seat, moaning and gagging with a wet cloth on her head and throw up bag in hand. The nurse is soothing and comforting her. I finally get myself, purses, and cane into the car. After fastening our seat belts, I put the car in reverse and we are on our way.

Before we are out of the parking lot she says, "You think we could stop at the Discount Bread Store?"

"Of course." I answer.

It is three blocks from the doctor's office. We are soon there. Before I can get out of the car, she is already out and on her way to the door!

I will miss her.