Page 5 of Accidental Irish Daddy

“Wonder where I get it from,” I snark back at her.

“In any case,” the doctor says, “I would recommend palliative care at this point. We have facilities—”

“Not a chance,” she says with a hearty laugh. “You won’t catch me withering away in one of those old crone homes.”

“Ma, please,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry. Go on, Dr. Bryant.”

Dr. Bryant clears his throat and adjusts the glasses on his nose before speaking. “If a facility is not appropriate, then she can be cared for at home for now. You’ll have to be the one to administer her medication.”“Medication? What medication? You just said her condition is terminal.”

“It is. But we’ll want to keep her comfortable, so I’ll have to prescribe painkillers for her.”

I stiffen at the very mention of the word.

Painkillers. In my house? Oh, that’s not going to work at all.

“Is that necessary?”

“Not yet, as it seems like she’s doing fairly well without them. I can tell you, eventually, she will need something for the pain.”

“I don’t need them,” Ma says, and I glare at her.

She shrugs. “It’s fine. I can do without pain medication.”

“It’s cancer, Ma. I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice.” I look back at the doctor. “Can I, perhaps, hire someone to care for her? Maybe a nurse or something?”

“Given Mrs. Duncan’s insistence that she stay out of a hospital setting, that would be best.”

“That’s fine, then. That’s what I’ll do. Thank you, doctor.”

We leave, and as soon as we’re out of the office, Ma says, “I can do without them, Grant. You don’t have to put yourself out for me.”

“It’d be cruel for you not to have them when you need them.”

“But what about your sobriety? You shouldn’t be around any narcotics.”

“I know. That’s why I asked about hiring somebody. I’ll get a home care nurse to care for you and be in charge of monitoring your medication. That way, the drugs won’t even be in my reach. Out of sight, out of mind.”

We’re standing outside of the office and a cool wind picks up, smelling of rain.

Ma looks up at me with soft, kind eyes and touches my face lovingly. “You’re a fine lad. You’ve done so well for yourself, getting yourself clean and all. I feel better knowing you’re here for me if I need you. But I’m fine and I’ll be fine. You don’t need to fret over me.”

She turns around and starts walking toward the car.

I just sigh and shake my head, then I follow her.

As I help her inside, my phone rings. It’s Da.

“One second,” I close the door and answer the call. “Yeah, Da.”

“What’d the doctor say?”

Da’s interest in all this is almost comical. More than half a decade ago, when they split up, I’d have thought that he didn’t give a rat's ass about her well-being. He must have really changed since he and Sidney got together.

Ma did say that everything was fine between the two of them.

I guess it really is.

“She needs palliative care, which would normally mean a hospice facility, but—”

---