Abstract
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Before he had even started kindergarten, his grandfather was teaching him the moves. Nik was always white, and always lost. At first it was fool's mate. He would make the same opening move, his grandfather would respond in the same way, and he would quickly lose. It was frustrating, but it made him think more about options. His Deda Boris never lost his temper, and never lost a game. By the time Nik was 16 he was captain of the chess team, but he never made it to the highest competitive rank. Luckily he loved football almost as much (thanks to his other grandfather, Big Jim) and was on that team as well. The two kinds of competition were similar but different: strategy, implementation, winning and losing.
Playing chess with his grandfather had taught him how to think several moves ahead, how to assess his opponent, but also how to lose with grace. When he was younger he would never give up and would always play till the bitter end, hoping to stretch out those last few minutes. But eventually he found the beauty in seeing far enough ahead to visualize the eventual conclusion, and the acceptance of loss—tipping over the king in surrender. Sergeant Grimsky was jolted back to the present as the wheels touched the runway. He grabbed his carry-on bag and headed directly to the hospital.
The hospital room was crowded and hot. The doctor seemed harried, the nurse frustrated, his father looked flustered, and his mother, as usual, was in the center of the maelstrom, agitated and agitating. The only calm one was Nik's grandfather, lying quietly in his bed, watching, but saying nothing. They all turned when he walked in, his mother running to him and giving him a hug as she burst into tears. It was about what he had expected. The news was bad. His grandfather had lung cancer, which had metastasized to his brain and caused an intracranial bleed, leaving him unable to speak or move one side of his body.
Nik pulled up a chair by his grandfather's bed, and held his hand. His grandfather slowly turned his head towards Nik and gave a weak smile. He seemed to be reaching for something with his left hand. He looked like he wanted to tell him something but all he said was, “Chuh…chuh.”
Everyone in the room looked at Boris—it was the first sound he had made in days. The doctor explained that he was unable to speak because of the brain injury and that they did not think he understood what was happening. There were some tough decisions to be made—Boris had no living will or advance directive. They had never discussed these issues at all.
“Chuh…chuh,” he said again. Nikolas suddenly realized what he was saying. He took out his portable chess set from his carry-on bag and set up the pieces. Boris gave a very lopsided smile and nodded his head. When the pieces were all set, Boris did something very odd—he rotated the board around so he was white. Nikolas felt a chill down his spine. His grandfather was trying to tell him something.
The doctor and his parents went back to their discussion. What would Boris want? Would he want to keep on fighting? Would he want to be intubated, have CPR?
Boris made a standard opening with his king's pawn. This seemed so odd to Nik—he had never seen his grandfather play first. But soon they were lost in the game. His grandfather started out slow and then began to make highly complex moves. Nikolas realized that his Deda was not confused at all; his mind was working just fine.
The doctor went on, “We need to decide about chemotherapy. There are several drugs which though very toxic might slow down the spread of the disease.”
The midgame was incredible—despite Nikolas's best efforts he was beaten back by a relentless attack, but not destroyed. His grandfather was controlling the play, and every move made Nik smile.
“And then there is the question of radiation therapy to the lesion in his head.”
Now Nik had just his king, a knight, and three pawns, and his grandfather had his king, one pawn, and his queen. Nik thought about quitting, but there was no way he wouldn't see this game to its end.
“So how do you want to proceed?” finished the physician. “Full Code? No Code? Chemo? Radiation? What would Boris want?” His mother shook her head; she could not decide—she had no idea what he would want.
Boris slammed his hand on the table, and everyone turned towards him. He moved his queen and put Nik in check. It didn't seem to make sense; Nik could just take the queen with his king. He asked his grandfather if he wanted to take the move back, and again Boris gave a half smile and shook his head no. Then Nikolas understood. He took the queen. Boris nodded, and with an elegant move, he tipped over his king.
Nikolas looked at the doctor. “I know what my grandfather wants.”