Lying in Intensive Care, sad-eyed loved ones will gather. I’ll rally to coax a smile, but they’ll be relieved to leave.
I’ll long to have my life back, but in the stillness of 3:00 a.m., I’ll accept my fate. The cycle of pain will return. I’ll reach for the nurse’s call button, the source of soothing morphine. In the dim yellow light of the vital-signs monitor, a lady in blue will appear. My thumb won’t press the button. The lady will beckon; I’ll reach for her. Life is precious, until it’s not, but I won’t die alone.