George has been pouring drinks for Carol at the local pub ever since she moved into the area fifteen years ago. He was the first person that served her and he had been doing it ever since, week in, week out. George was hired as a barman a quarter of a century ago. Through the years, he had survived along with the pub the various economic downturns including the pandemic. As far as anyone could tell, he had never taken a day off work.
George turned sixty-three a month ago. He was slim built and soft spoken. He had a gentle demeanour, lovely green eyes and quick with a smile. He wore a pair of spectacles that often slid down his nose which he then pushed back up with the back of his hand. He had some form of scoliosis in his back forcing his head to tilt to the left and slightly hunched over. The contorted posture should make him look rather uncomfortable. However, when he looked at you with a smile on his face, the odd posture became rather endearing. It made him look like he was very interested in what you were saying.
‘Hi George,’ said Carol as she plonked herself against the bar. The interior of the pub was cosy and slightly upmarket. It was decorated with a lot of wood which gave it quite a sense of warmth. The furniture was clean, comfortable and modern.
‘Hello Carol, what can I get you?’ George smiled.
‘I don’t know George. I must say that I didn’t have the best of days today,’ Carol let out a sigh.
George thought for a second and then responded.
‘Hmm…how does a chilled pinot sound?’
‘Oh, that sounds brilliant, George. Just perfect,’ Carol smiled and felt her body relax for the first time all day.
George turned to the bar fridge and returned with a glass and a bottle. He showed Carol the label.
‘This one is from Tasmania. It’s quite floral with a hint of cinnamon and herb. Lovely and refreshing,’ George looked to see if Carol was happy for him to pour.
‘Yes please.’
Carol looked longingly at the ruby liquid being poured into her wine glass. She then gave the glass a quick swirl before taking a satisfying sip.
‘Oh George, very nice! Thank you.’
Feeling that her day was going to be fine from here, she removed herself from the bar to sit down at a table towards the back of the dining room. The creamy tomato and spinach pasta sounded good. She ate her meal while scrolling through Instagram, YouTube and the News on her phone. There was no shortage of distractions and entertainment from that little device. She then felt an urge to check her email. Inevitably, there would be one or two emails that she felt compelled to deal with. That would be a cue for her to finish her dinner and head home where she could use her laptop.
‘Good night George,’ Carol waved goodbye to George as she stepped out of the pub.
‘Good night Carol,’ George waved back.
When George had the day off, it would be Peter or Louise that covered the bar. They were relatively new but would be just as competent and pleasant. The evening would pass by enjoyably. Nevertheless, when George was there, it evoked a form of joy akin to seeing an old friend again. His presence represented continuity, stability and predictability. It was comforting.
Carol and George had discussed about all matters of things with each other. They had skilfully avoided anything too personal, political or contraversial. They had respected each other’s space and boundaries. Their arms length relationship had worked really well for them. It was perfect.
It was perfect until now.
Who am I to him? Would he count me as his close friend, close enough to see him this way? Even though we have known each other for some time, it has always been and only in the context of him the barman and me the customer. I hope that this is not going to be weird.
Carol asked herself these questions as she followed the instructions of her GPS to the hospital where George had been admitted. The bar staff had just given her the name of the hospital. She was on her way.
When Carol hadn’t seen George for a few days at the pub, she felt that something was not right. She made an enquiry about him.
‘Hey, where’s George? Haven’t seen him for over a week. Is he on vacation?’ Carol asked Peter who was on duty at the bar.
‘Nah, George is crook. Not good. He was admitted to the hospital earlier this week.’ Peter responded from behind the bar.
‘Oh dear. What happened? Was he in an accident or something?’ Carol was shocked to hear the news.
‘No, I guess all the years of smoking and drinking have finally caught up with him.’
‘That’s no good. I’m very sorry to hear. I hope he gets better soon.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
Carol left the pub pondering if she should pay him a visit in the hospital. She wanted to see George but felt that it wasn’t her place to. But then her heart would tighten when she thought about him. He had made her feel valued each time she stepped inside the pub. The least that she could do was to let him know that she cared.
‘Which hospital is George in?’ Carol went back inside the pub to ask.
‘Prince of Wales. Are you going to see him?’ Peter asked.
‘I would like to. I am worried about him,’ Carol responded. She was still self-conscious about her decision to break social boundary and wanted to justify her action to Peter.
‘Well then, I suggest you hurry. A phone call just came through. They said he has been transferred to palliative care.’
‘What?’ Carol’s held on to the bar to steady herself as her legs felt weak and her head dizzy. She knew George was unwell but the word ‘palliative’ shook her up. It felt like her heart had just fallen through her stomach. She couldn’t speak for a few seconds and she took a few breaths to recover from the shock.
‘What do you mean palliative care?’ Carol asked to double check that she had heard him right.
‘They said that nothing could be done for him. I am just as shocked as you are. Will you be going to the hospital now?’ Peter lowered his head.
‘Well, yeah…’ Carol placed her hand over her mouth trying to figure out what to do. What could she bring with her? What should she say when she sees George? Her head spun. Question after question popped up in her head
‘Oh boy, is this for real? What am I going to do?’ Carol mumbled to herself as she paced the floor.
‘Here, can you take this to him?’ Peter handed over a red box. It looked like a gift box designed for wine or champagne of sorts.
‘Is that your gift to George?’
‘He wanted it. It’s a bottle of cognac. That’s his dying wish.’
‘Oh Jesus, how do you know?’
‘Some of the bar staff are with him right now. They called in just before you came back. I was going to bring that to him after work. But if you’re going now, you can deliver that for him sooner.’
‘Alright, I should get going then.’ Carol accepted the box and started to make her way out. She was glad to be given instructions. She felt more grounded now that she had a job to do.
Waiting at the traffic light, Carol looked at the beautifully designed red box housing the Cognac. It was George’s “dying wish”. Carol tried to imagine where George was at.
Bloody hell, it must be frightening to know that you’re dying shortly. George knew he was dying. We often joke that we would all die one day. But to really know it is something else. Fuck!
Carol took a deep breath as she stepped inside the hospital. She was surprised to see that the palliative ward was just like a regular ward. There were unwell looking patients lying on their beds. However, unlike a regular ward, most had friends and families around them. The ward was also a lot quieter. There were no machines lined up against the walls humming, blipping and pinging continuously.
Finally, she came to the room that George was in. He did not look good. He had a mask on and he was struggling to breathe. It was as if he had been running and he was panting. But he was just sitting on his bed. He was already frail and slim and he had lost weight. His collar bones jutted out prominently. His pyjamas hung loosely around him. He was fighting to stay alive.
Sitting on various chairs around George were a couple of bar staff that Carol recognised. There were other people in the group that Carol had never seen before. Presumably, they were his family. She nodded at the group.
One of the bar staff introduced her to a woman sitting on the chair closest to the bed as his sister, Tania. Carol smiled at Tania and extended her hand to her. Tania shook it briefly and thanked her for coming.
‘Hi George, how are you?’ Carol went over to George.
George smiled at Carol and proceeded to reach for his pen and paper. With his mask on and his body heaving for air, speaking was no longer possible for him.
While George hunched over to scribble on his paper, Tania leaned over to Carol and whispered to her ears to tell her what was happening. She disclosed that George had stage four lung cancer and he only had 1% capacity left on his lungs. When that last 1% was gone, that would be it.
Carol felt her body tighten up. She nodded to Tania to thank her for the information. She then looked across the room at the bar staff. They nodded in acknowledgement. Carol sighed quietly. She searched for something to say but found no words in her. She felt powerless. She felt that she had no control over anything.
George sat back from the table and handed the piece of paper to Carol. It said ‘Been better.’
‘Oh George,’ Carol squeezed George’s hand.
‘Are you in pain?’ Carol looked at George’s tired face. He nodded and then hunched over his writing pad to write a response to Carol. The note said ‘Back hurts.’
Carol looked to Tania and asked if there were any pain killers available. Apparently, George had been given a lot of morphine already. Then Carol remembered the cognac.
‘Oh George, look what I’ve got. It’s from your work,’ Carol handed the beautiful red box over to George.
‘Would you like to try some now?’ Carol asked pretending to be more excited than she felt. George smiled and nodded.
‘I’ll be right back.’ Carol got up and left the bed in search of the kitchenette. It was a relief to get away from the room. It felt heavy being there. The tension and emotions were so thick that Carol found it hard to breathe herself. One of the bar staff got up to join her. Maybe she was looking for a chance to take a breather also.
‘I think there’s a kitchenette this way,’ Charlene, a young woman who joined the pub a year ago, gestured to the right.
‘When did you guys find out that George was sick?’ Carol asked.
‘This morning. We got into work and were told the news. So we decided to visit after our shift,’ Charlene lowered her head.
‘This is so sudden. I still can’t believe this is happening,’ Carol shook her head.
‘We were told that he was admitted to hospital a couple of days and he went downhill rapidly. By the time that we got here today, he had already been moved into palliative care,’ Charlene shared what she knew.
‘It’s crazy. Wasn’t he at work just before that?’ Carol furrowed her brow.
‘Yeah, he was. But I must say he was coughing a lot then.’
‘Right, he was quite a smoker, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes he was.’
The pair fell into a silence not knowing what to say. Everyone knew that smoking would lead to this. That’s the price that George was paying. It would be easy to think that this was his fault. But he was probably just trying to avoid unpleasant feelings like everyone else. Before you know it, he was addicted. It was not right to think that George did this to himself.
‘Oh, here they are, the cups,’ Charlene pointed to a stack of paper cups on the kitchen shelf. She grabbed a handful of them and the pair walked back to the room.
When they re-entered the room, everyone looked at the pair with relief. Drinking cognac out of a paper cup didn’t feel right but it was better than nothing. Everyone wished that George could enjoy something that he wanted to have in his final hours.
Tania went to George’s bed and helped him remove his oxygen mask. She handed him his paper cup of cognac and helped him bring it to his lips.
‘To George!’ Someone from the group said and everyone raised their cups.
George took a small sip, smiled and then put his mask back on. He didn’t smell it first as he most definitely would if he was in better health. George loved tasting wines and spirits. He had a wide repertoire of knowledge on the subject. He was a barman for most of his life after all.
He had once told Carol that he had no personal favourites. Every wine had their own characteristics and they were all different. The joy was in recognising them.
In this moment however, joy was so far away that it seemed impossible. Sadness had occupied every inch of space in the room. After the subdued toast, Tania laid George back down and made him as comfortable as she could. Some questions were asked by the group and George tried his best to scribble more messages. He also wrote out instructions and reminders to the bar staff on when to clean the beer line and what to do with beer glass stains. As each person received their notes, they thanked and hugged him.
Carol’s note says ‘Felton Road and Bindi are good Pinots’.
‘Thank you George. I’m really going to miss you,’
Carol couldn’t believe that she just said those words. The cognac must have loosened her tongue. She would never have said that if she was sober. Was that a permission for him to die? Was she even supposed to say that?
Carol was known for being optimistic. Things would work out. She would be fine. The sky would not fall. Everything happened for the best. The truth was that Carol was no optimist, not even close. She was just avoiding the difficult emotions.
The game was up for Carol. There was nowhere for her to hide. Seeing someone you knew in pain was so awful that Carol wanted it to stop. But nothing changed no matter how much she wanted it. She could not stop the heaving. The unpleasant feelings of fear, grief, sadness, loss, guilt, pain and helplessness had to be endured.
The only solace she could find was knowing that everyone in the room was feeling the same. Their discomfort was written on their tight faces and how they struggled to find a place for their arms and hands. She wasn’t alone.
She silently wished for George to let it go sooner. She whispered in her own mind, ‘Come on George. It’s okay. You can stop fighting it. Relax into it and fall into a deep sleep’. She wondered how much longer George could sustain this fight. No one was saying anything anymore.
Tania came to the rescue by suggesting that the group let George get some rest.
Carol took a deep breath of the evening air as she stepped out of the hospital. It felt so nice to be able to breathe in that fresh cool evening air. The oxygen made Carol felt alive. She reminded herself not to take this for granted.
‘Hey, we’re going to get a drink, you’re welcome to join us,’ Charlene offered as the group filed out of the hospital.
‘Thanks, but I’ll need more than one drink and I have to drive. So I’ll wait till I get home.’
‘Alright, take care then. See you around.’
‘Good night,’ Carol waved the group goodbye and headed to her car.
Carol decided to return to the hospital the next evening to see George.
The room was silent when she arrived. George had died. Tania sat at the chair next to the bed. She was lost in her own thoughts. Carol went up to squeeze her hand. She felt her eyes sting and tears started to roll down her face. George’s body lied quietly. He was now dressed in his own clothes. He had his favourite jacket on. His face was relaxed. He looked like he was just sleeping. He was much better to look at today then yesterday. The frowns were gone and his cheeks soft. He was no longer struggling. He looked at peace.
‘He passed this morning at around 11am,’ Tania told Carol.
Carol was glad that she came and was able to see George like this. The heaviness of her chest was lifted even though the sadness remained. She was still rattled by how this all happened so suddenly and so quickly. She missed George.
‘Thank you Tania for letting me be here,’ Carol looked deeply into Tania’s eyes with gratitude.
‘Thank you for coming. It’s wonderful to see the friends that George had made. You know, we grew up together but we got busy with our own lives once we left home. We were not as involved with each other’s lives as much as we should have. He was a good brother and I hadn’t been a good sister. I’m glad that George managed to make such good friends,’ Tania smiled.
Carol fell silent. She didn’t want to tell Tania that they were not friends, not technically anyway. After a pause, she said, ‘I’ve known George for fifteen years. I saw him almost every week at the local pub. He was wonderful. He was always there, always pleasant. We talked and we laughed. He was a constant.’
‘I see. He did love working at the pub. He’d always be working a shift. We think that he loved being at the pub than being with his family. We couldn’t get him to come home in the holidays. He’d rather work over Easter than to take a couple of days off to come and see us. I don’t think he knows what to do with himself on his day off. Perhaps you have just helped me understand why. There are nice customers like you where he worked,’ Tania smiled.
‘But we’ve not really known each other outside the confines of the pub,’ Carol lowered her head feeling a little embarrassed and inadequate.
‘Well, It’s valuable to have that kind of relationship too. You don’t have to go see a movie together to feel a connection with someone,’ Tania shrugged.
‘I guess you’re right. It’s the interactions and connections that count. Like now, I have only known you for 24 hours and I felt like I could tell you anything,’ Carol let out a nervous laugh.
‘Perhaps death does that to us. It reminds us how to live. None of us is invulnerable and we have limited time in this place,’ Tania sighed.
‘Hey, I have an idea. Would you like to have dinner with me at the pub and tell me what George was like growing up?’ Carol’s eyes lit up.
‘Sure, I could tell you some stories. I would also love to see how George had spent the last twenty-five years of his life too. Perhaps, we can make up for the missing parts of George for each other, ’ Tania smiled.
‘We’re going miss George,’ Carol got up to hug Tania.
‘Yes we are.’
