read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

February 2, 2009
Although itís a different city, different hospital, I canít help being reminded of the long vigil at our motherís bedside as her life slowly, painfully ebbed away. The unique mixture of ennui and fear, the smell of strong disinfectant and stale cafeteria food, the beeps of the machines and moans of the patients are so similar that itís as if the past is somehow transparently overlaid on the present. I know my sister is thinking the same thing as we sit beside her beloved husbandís bed, anxiously watching for signs of pain or something, anything, we can do to help.