The House of Marcellinus

Arc 0: Farewell

Lord Lucius Marcellinus said his final goodbyes to his wife on January 5th, as a gentle snow fell outside, under a gray overcast sky. She had been released from the hospital three days prior into at-home hospice care so that she could spend her final moments in more comfortable and familiar surroundings. She and Lucius had conversed softly through her last moments, he in his soft, reassuring manner, and her in a faint whisper, which was the best she could do.

The only medical equipment sent home with her was a morphine drip, equipped with a button which she could press to release a little extra, if the pain became too bad. At the hospital, the built-in computer had a limiter which prevented patients from accidentally administering too much. When she had been sent home, the doctor discretely informed Lord Lucius that this had been removed, "to ensure the comfort of the patient." Lucius had expected a warning against giving too much, but this had not come. He understood what this meant. Medically assisted suicide was still illegal in this country, but for the Marcellinus family– eyes would be turned elsewhere.

But Lucius knew his wife's character, and as he expected, she had hardly pressed it since coming home. While she was sensitive to the pain of others, she was philosophical about her own. When she had given birth to their son Markus, she had refused an epidural, saying that the pain of becoming a mother was something unique and special, and that she didn't want to miss out on it.

The doctor attending the birth told Lucius that he had heard this before, but in the end, the patient always requested the epidural. He advised that she should accept it now, and asked Lucius to persuade his wife. When he walked back into the room and saw her laying in her hospital bed, her huge belly swollen up like a beach ball under the maternity gown printed with little blue and pink teddy bears, and her face glowing with expectation, he only asked "Are you ready?" She answered "Yes", and he saw that it was true.

Even after twenty-four hours of labor, when her breathing had turned into a sort of ragged heaving that began to alarm him, and the doctor ordered that the labor be induced to 'prevent risk of harm to mother and child', she had endured. She never complained, or expressed regret. That was the sort of strength his wife possessed. Cuddling the newborn Markus, her face was haggard and weary, but the glow was still there, and he knew that she had been right. She had gone down to the depths, to the very brink of life and death where no man can ever go, and had brought back with her this new life. He almost envied her that pain.

Lady Marcellinus told her husband that the pain of dying was nothing compared to the pain of giving life, and he saw this was also true. Since that pain was nothing special, she had accepted the morphine. He guessed she did it as much for his sake as for her own.

Later, he was unable to recall what they had talked about that final night, except that on three separate occasions she had drifted off into sleep and had awoken suddenly and spoken urgently, as if she were afraid she might slip off for the last time before saying what she needed to.

"Take care of Markus."

Each time he assured her that he would, and pointed to the eight year old boy asleep on the sofa. Jeorge, Lucius's most trusted servant, had brought a blanket to place over him, understanding that this must be where he spent the night. The final time she added, "He tries his best to put on a brave front, but he's such a sensitive boy."

Lucius squeezed her hand and assured her, "I know. Don't worry. Everything will be alright."

With that, she seemed to relax. Instead of drifting off unwillingly, this time she closed her eyes. She breathed in a long, heavy sigh and as she let it out, she allowed herself to fall into a peaceful sleep.

Ruby, the hospice nurse, had attended the final moments of many, and knew this sign. She quietly stood, walked to Jeorge and whispered, "It's time," and then led him out the door.