Pride Sunday

I was getting ready for the Queer Liberation March and searching for my glasses when the phone rang and I picked it up to find a doctor from NYU. I recognized his name because he has been taking care of my very sick client, J., for the last week. "Are you his proxy?" he asked, which is not a question you ever want to hear. "Yes," I confirmed, waiting for bad news, pushing away the memory of the day that I, as proxy, made the decision to take JC off life support. "He has really low blood pressure," he said. "That’s happened before," I told him, thinking of the time a hospital in the Bronx told me that J. was stuck in the ICU beause he had to stay there as long as he was getting pressors, powerful drugs to raise his blood pressure. They asked me to decide whether to risk taking him off the pressors, so he could leave the ICU. My staff joke through their pain that J has more lives than a cat because somehow he keeps pulling through. "There are a few reasons this can happen," the doctor continued. "It can be related to being over-dialyzed or under-dialyzed, but since he has a fever I’m worried that he has an infection." "You’re concerned that he's septic," I said, cutting to the chase. "Yes," he said, "we need to get him antibiotics and blood pressure medication but he’s refusing. He keeps just saying 'you said no' to me and I don’t think he’s capable of decisions right now. You may have to consent for him. But try talking to him first." The doctor went into the room and gave J. his phone. He kept repeating to me that the doctor had said no, so finally I asked him, what did he say no to?" He struggled for a minute. "He said no to…. He said no to …." But he could not come up with the end of the sentence. "He’s playing games with me!" he said angrily. "OK," I said, knowing better than to argue with someone not quite in reality, "but just because you’re angry,is that a reason to let yourself die? Your blood pressure is really low and you need to take this medicine to stay alive." We went back-and-forth with variations of that a few times and eventually, still reluctant, He took the medication. "I’m going to come see you," I told him. "Do you want anything?" I was hoping to change his mood. Usually he loves it when people bring him outside food but he didn’t really respond to that. "Let me know if you think of something," I told him in case it is just taking him a while to process. The doctor reached for his phone and J resisted thinking it was his phone. The doctor showed J where his phone was, and left the room. Once out, he said "we’re going to need to take his pressure in half an hour to see if it comes up again. If he won’t let us, can we call you back? "Yes," I said, "and once I finish my finding my glasses I will come see him." If his blood pressure is not up in half an hour, we’re going to have to move him into the ICU," the doctor said. "I know," I said, "that has happened to him before." An hour later when they called back, J., always such a talker, still could not finish a sentence, and he was still incoherently angry and resisting, but I could hear more energy in his voice, and I had a feeling the crisis was ebbing. I am so used to him pulling through time after time. I know I shouldn’t let myself believe that that’s always going to be what happens but it’s hard not to. I still haven't found my glasses.