All Too Well

Rachel Heilbronner
White walls, white ceiling, white carpet. The nice house, lacking personality, easy to sell
and pass on quickly. Bare rooms, boxes piled in corners. My bedroom was one o the ew
rooms that ! had mostly set up, and ! was laying in my bed, which ! had pushed into one corner,
staring at the ceiling. !t was odd that at this particular moment, ! could recall my childhood. !
could almost see the little plastic glow"in"the"dark stars and moons that once adorned my ceiling,
and ! was struck by a desperate eeling o longing. There was nothing that ! wanted more, in that
moment, than to ha#e my childhood back, with all its innocence and good intent, all its nai#ete
and careree un. ! had done something that ! could see as nothing but unorgi#able, and i !
could do anything, it would be going back in time to my childhood, gi#ing mysel a chance to do
e#erything o#er again.
My name is Michael $ingston, and ! can see mysel as nothing but a murderer. ! took an
oath to protect the li#es o e#eryone, and yet ! ha#e killed one o my patients.
Hannah Wilson was a young, #i#acious, %&"year"old student at our city's local college,
(ewis and )lark )ollege, in *ortland, until she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. +he was
an art ma,or, a disappointment to her parents, but she was li#ing the lie that she wanted. -r, at
least, that's how it seemed.
! can remember clearly the irst day she came into the hospital. +he had woken up during
the night with a searing pain in her stomach, and she dro#e hersel to the hospital to ind out
what was wrong. .ter a thorough examination, we reali/ed that she had had a rare but
incredibly dangerous orm o cancer growing in her pancreas, likely or years, and it had chosen
to strike that Wednesday at %01& am. .t irst, she reused to belie#e that she had the disease0 she
had always been healthy and athletic, and she had no amily history o cancer. But as the days
wore on, she was spending more and more time in our hospital, unable to attend classes because
o the extreme pain, unable e#en to paint anymore.
Her ighting spirit, strong will, and ne#er"ending optimism were an inspiration to her
riends, #isitors, and us doctors. +he ne#er stopped smiling, always belie#ed that she could make
it through the pain, and reused to back down and gi#e in. +he had e#eryone ooled. Hannah
had been depressed since she was ourteen years old, but she hid it well. +he ne#er told a soul
about her issues, and no one e#er thought to look beyond the beautiul acade.
+he ought through her cancer or months on end, and so her seemingly sudden decision
to be euthani/ed came as a terrible shock to all o us. +he irst whispered to me her desperate
wish or the pain to end, and as time passed, the word got around the hospital that the incredible
girl in room %23 was putting an end to her battle. +he was already an adult, and she didn't
consult her parents on her decision. +he told only her roommate, and the poor girl was orced to
keep Hannah's secret until my patient was gone.
With a steady hand, Hannah signed all o the papers legali/ing her death, ending each
signature with her artist's lourish. +he used the same pen each time, a slim, delicate ountain
pen that wrote in the clearest black ink. +he was an artist until the #ery end, ne#er abandoning
her skills. Whene#er anyone tried to change her mind about going through with her death, she
would smile sadly, and whisper how much pain she was in. +he had e#eryone belie#ing that her
pain was merely physical, but she was simply using her cancer as an excuse, as a way to die.
Her depression was inally o#erwhelming her, and so she put her cancer to use, beating the
disease that consumed her at its own game. +he lung a inal insult in the ace o her cancer,
essentially taking her own lie and blaming the cancer or her pain.
Hannah decided that she wanted to die in the morning, and the day she chose was, like so
many others in *ortland, rainy. .s her primary doctor, ! was the one who was supposed to
euthani/e this beautiul girl, and in the days leading up to the procedure, ! could barely sleep, or
all ! could think about was how ! could let go o the girl ! had ound mysel alling in lo#e with.
But ! could not stop the procedure4 it was Hannah's decision, and ! had to go through with it out
o respect to her wishes.
That March morning, ! walked into %23 like ! did e#ery morning, but Hannah seemed
dierent somehow. - course she knew what day it was, o course she knew what was going to
happen, but she seemed somehow happy. 5o, happy isn't the right word. +he seemed calm, like
she had made her peace with hersel and her cancer and the world. +he was, in a word, ready,
but ! was anything but. +he smiled her special little grin at me as ! walked to her bedside. The
room reeked o the many bouquets scattered around the room, sent by riends and admirers4 the
smell illed my nose, making me sick. The cloyingly sterile hospital air made my breaths catch
in my throat, making my words ragged.
6Hannah Wilson, ha#e you ully consented to euthanasia, and do you accept all o the
terms and conditions that come with this procedure78 The words were bitter in my mouth4 !
could barely twist them out o my dry mouth.
6! am,8 she whispered.
With a shaking hand, ! reached or the cord. *ulling it would end her lie. My hand
trembled on the plastic coating. ! was about to take my hand o o it, tell her that ! couldn't do
it, beg her to reconsider, but ! was ro/en. Hannah turned her head to ace me, and looked right
at me with her luminous green eyes. +he put her cold hand on top o mine, and with one decisi#e
mo#ement, she pulled, both o us yanking the cord together, me reluctantly, and her strongly.
+he sighed once, and did not mo#e again.
!n a da/e, ! ran out o her room, lying towards the bathrooms. ! threw up so many times
! couldn't e#en count, ra#aged by pain, not belie#ing what had happened. ! hid in the bathrooms
all day, until ater 1092, when ! knew they would ha#e taken Hannah's body away. ! returned to
%23 as a sleepwalker, terriied o what ! might ind, e#en more scared o inding nothing o hers
let behind. ! stripped down her standard"issue bed, taking the sheet away to be burned, to kill
any diseases let behind. ! lited the mattress with a hea#e, ready to drag it out the door to where
it would be cleaned and used again. ! leaned the mattress against the wall and sat down in the
one chair, about to all to pieces again. .s ! buried my head in my hands, ! caught sight o
something lying on the bed. ! slowly raised my head up and looked more closely at the little
book. (eather"bound, illed with creamy pages, ! knew immediately that it had to be a ,ournal,
Hannah's ,ournal. !t was scary how conlicted ! was0 ! desperately wanted to know what she had
written, yet ! had no desire to poke the bear. :inally though, ! couldn't help mysel.
Murmured to the pages o her ,ournal, stued under her thin mattress, she told the story
o her depression, her crushing eeling o deeat, the way she elt abandoned, how she had lost
her aith in her )hristian ;od, and how she could no longer take the mental pain, which was
e#en more o#erwhelming than her physical pain. +he could not bear the idea o li#ing the rest o
her lie in hospitals <not e#en being able to inish college=, taking test ater test, trying hundreds
o treatments that all ailed, li#ing, as she put it, 6not e#en hal a lie.8 The irst entries were
dated years ago, the silly writings o a twel#e"year"old, but slowly becoming darker and more
meaningul as her depression de#eloped as she became a young woman. The diary was illed
with quotations, random thoughts, day"to"day experiences, and things she could ne#er say aloud.
!n an entry dated ,ust a month ago, she spilled the great and terrible idea that had come to
her, a way to end the sadness and to end the pain. +he had inally struck gold0 she had
disco#ered a way out. Reading her scrawls was heartbreaking and breathtaking at the same time4
! had known about her intelligence but ! had no idea that she could write so rawly and lawlessly.
! couldn't stop reading the diary, and yet when ! was done, ! elt so much worse than ! did at the
beginning. Reali/ing that she was depressed and suicidal, and reali/ing that ! had ne#er seen it,
had made me eel like e#en more o a murderer. Her assisted suicide was really that0 a suicide,
but ! was the one who let it happen, who pulled the cord, who ne#er saw what ! should ha#e
seen. !t's my ault that she is dead, and ! know it all too well.
! wish that ! could speak to her ,ust one last time, to apologi/e and beg orgi#eness or not
noticing what ! should ha#e seen, or letting her go instead o ighting like she ought. +he
sur#i#ed or se#en years, and yet ! should ha#e made sure that she could li#e or another se#enty.
! would tell her e#erything0 that ! lo#ed her, that ! would ha#e done e#erything humanly possible
to sa#e her i ! had only known, that ! was so sorry that ! hadn't looked closely enough, that !
wished her only happiness and that ! knew that there were so many more options than the one
that she chose.
.nd as ! lay there in my bed, ! could see her, smiling and laughing, green eyes bright,
brown"gold hair blowing in the wind. ! could see the way she could ha#e been, the way she
should ha#e been, cancer"ree, ridden o her depression, and able to li#e the long, beautiul,
happy lie that she so deser#ed. .s ! closed my eyes, ! could inally tell her e#erything that !
ha#e been longing to say.
6! am so, so sorry, Hannah. ! wish ! had known... ! wish ! could ha#e done something.8
+he ga#e me her sweet, sweet smile, the kind that sol#es hunger and makes lowers grow.
! drank in her image, the way she tosses her hair, the i#ory shirt she is wearing, the one dimple in
her let cheek. +he leaned close to me, her hair alling o#er her shoulders. ! imagine what she
would say to me, how she would laugh and tease and comort at the same time.
6>ou know that this was my decision... >ou know that it was up to me. !t's not your
ault.8
6But what can ! do now7 What am ! supposed to do7 >ou let me with nothing but
guilt.8
6Michael, you know that this was up to me. But i it helps, i ! could do e#erything o#er
again, ! would tell someone, ! would ha#e gotten help years ago, back when my depression irst
reared its ugly head. ! would ha#e igured out how to get past it all, how to change and to be
happy.8
6But it's too late now. :or both o us.8
6+top being so dramatic? @ee/. .ll !'m saying is that ! made the right decision or the
person ! was, but i ! could ha#e a chance to be a dierent person, a happier one, ! wouldn't ha#e
gone through with my suicide.8
6+o what do ! do now7 ! can't go back to the hospital. ! lo#ed helping people and ! was
good at what ! did, but ! can't wander those halls again, ! can't heal another patient sleeping in
%23, ! can't use those bathrooms again where ! wept or hours. ! can't be that person again.8
6>ou always were a sucker or sad stu. Remember when you told me about all those
mo#ies you cried through78
6>ou remember when ! told you that78
6- course ! do. But honestly, Michael, ! think the problem isn't that you're sad, it's that
you know that !'m right, that there was nothing you could do, and the smart doctor doesn't know
what to do when he inds out that he's wrong.8
6+o tell me what the right answer is, oh wise proessor.8 The playul banter, back and
orth, e#en i imagined, elt natural and sae. ! got to know her so well through those months in
the hospital that my mind comes up with her answers to my comments automatically.
! watched her lick her hair o#er her shoulder, assuming a sage air, but still getting across
the seriousness o her point.
6What do you wish you could ha#e done78
6Helped you4 you know that.8
6Then help my memory by helping other people like me. Help me by showing kids that
depression is not the only way to li#e4 it's not e#en really li#ing. But show them that they should
want to li#e, that they deser#e to li#e, that they need to li#e. +how them that ! was wrong, but
that e#eryone else was wrong, too, or not noticing what was going on with me. Teach kids to
li#e, teach them to o#ercome their mental issues, teach them to be what ! couldn't be. Ao or
them what you couldn't do or me.8
! exhaled slowly. :unny how ! had the answer in me all along, but ! needed a ake
con#ersation with my dead patient to bring it out. ! knew that ! could do what she asked, ! knew
that ! would do it, but all ! had needed was someone to actually tell me to do it.
6How's that or a mo#ie speech, huh78 +he laughs.
6-scar"worthy,8 ! reply, inally allowing a smile to spread across my ace, inally
allowing mysel to belie#e that ! would go on without her, but ! would ne#er truly be without her
spirit, wisdom, teasing, and lo#e.