“Thank you. I’m wondering how much you know about hospice?”
“Quite a lot, actually,” Deirdre answered. “My mother had hospice care during her last days.”
“And how did you find that experience?”
Deirdre liked Joanne. As was the case with the hospice workers she had come to know during her mother’s long, painful exit from the world, this woman had a mixture of directness and compassion. She was unafraid to confront difficult truths but not blind to the anguish they caused.
“It was a very positive experience, but as you can see, this situation is somewhat different.”
“Is it? Do you have nursing care? Do you have—”
“Please,” Deirdre interrupted. “I appreciate what you’re doing. I believe in the hospice movement, and I hope your visit to our little circus turns out to be a good platform to promote it.” Joanne, realizing she’d been outed, looked at Deirdre with something between resignation and admiration.
“But our situation,” Deirdre continued, “is, in many ways, out of our control. Besides, all of this”—she swept her arm across the room, her motion taking in the television cameras and all that they represented—“has allowed me to stop working and care for Jared full-time. I can be here for him.”
“Well,” Joanne said, starting to rise, her coat still on her arm, “I do appreciate your time, and—”
“What does the hospice foundation think about the Death with Dignity Act?” Both women were surprised at Jared’s sudden question. He asked it softly, staring at his hands, like he was trying to remember the words to say.
“We’re opposed to it,” Joanne answered matter-of-factly as she sat back down.
“Why?”
“Do you know, Jared, the number one reason cited for ending a life prematurely?” Deirdre watched her husband. She could see him searching for the answer. It was an answer he almost certainly knew at one point but had now forgotten. She wanted to cry when he shook his head no.
“People don’t want to be a burden to the ones they love.”
“Jared isn’t a burden to us,” Deirdre was quick to interject.
“Of course not, and that’s exactly the point. You don’t think it’s a burden, but he does. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stone?”
For his part, Jared didn’t know if it was right or not. The feelings in his head were both more complex and more amorphous than that. Whether it was a result of the tumor or something else, he didn’t know.
“It is called the Death with Dignity Act,” he said, with an emphasis on dignity. “Isn’t dignity a personal thing? Isn’t it for me to decide what is dignified and what is not?”
Deirdre looked at her husband and sensed that something had changed, or was changing, and it made her scared. “Thank you, Joanne, for coming to see us,” she said, standing up. Deirdre looked at Joanne, trying to plead with her eyes to just let the rest of the conversation go. Joanne got the message and stood up as well.
“Thank you both. And on behalf of the foundation, we really do wish you and your daughters well.” With that, she left.
Later that night, after Ethan had fired the security guard and additional workers were brought in to complete The Wall, the conversation about the Death with Dignity Act was featured as the centerpiece on Life and Death. Missing was the confrontation at the door, Deirdre’s tacit critique of the television equipment, and Jared’s flash of lucidity. All that was left was a confused-looking Jared and a tense-looking Deirdre debating the merits of euthanasia with a hospice worker.
America was none the wiser.
***
The premiere episode of The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon aired two nights after Life and Death returned from its hiatus. In its brief nine minutes and thirty seconds, the YouTube video attempted to show the secret underbelly of Life and Death.
It opened with a clip of Jared reading aloud from one of his favorite books as Deirdre lay with her head on his lap. This was not the debilitated, confused Jared that the network presented in prime time. He looked thin, he looked older, but he looked alive. There were short scenes of the crew servicing the miles of cable and dozens of cameras that lay over the Stone house like an infestation of silverfish. The viewer could now plainly see that the house was less an environment in which people lived, and more a set in which actors played parts. Jackie had even managed to capture the crew in the truck—“Sure, sweetie, come on in,” they had told her—reviewing the dailies. “If we jump from here to here, the director said, “it will make him seem more confused.” Max, with his editing software, zoomed in to show that the clips they were manipulating featured Jared.