Rushing toward Strong Hospital in 2008, I call the pulmonologist, the oncologist, the cardiologist, and our family doctor. “Should we put your husband on a ventilator?” they ask me. “Can you give him chemo after he nearly
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Just before our fortieth wedding anniversary in 2008, I drive my husband Vic to Strong Hospital where he’s being treated for lymphoma. The long drive is familiar after two years. Spring-green hillsides shout May vitality and hope,
Read more →“Will you meditate with me?” he asks. I’d said yes for many years. Chemotherapy was ordered hours ago. Salvage chemo. A cursed name That hasn’t yet arrived. I have nothing left to give. At 3 AM that
Read more →I remember the tense discomfort of my flimsy excuse, but don’t recall just what it was. I remember the relief of avoiding being face-to-face with a dying person. In 1991, I hadn’t learned to sit with death,
Read more →1950 Jim and I sat in the backseat, our faces out opposite windows. The wind dried our sweat into salty white stains. Daddy was sick, so our parents had pulled a tiny Airstream to Arizona for a virus-free winter. We packed
Read more →I miss my big brother’s Sunday calls. I want to tell him Bob Dylan won the Noble Prize in Literature. My brother Jim brought Dylan records home from college when I was 14. I want to tell him Clinton
Read more →I lie in darkness under warm blankets. Willow snoozes on her bed on the floor. It’s 4 a.m. My heart pounds as though I’m being chased. No one here except me and this demon. Each breath comes knotted and
Read more →“I’m calling from Dana Farber,” a hushed male voice said on the phone. Oh no. It’s my brother. “Why are you at Dana Farber?” I asked in a quiet measured tone. Dana Farber Cancer Institute was where he
Read more →Six weeks after my husband’s stem cell transplant in 2007, he drove our Subaru west on the New York State Thruway. A stocking cap covered his hairless head. I sat in the passenger seat. His jaw muscles popped
Read more →My brother’s cell phone sings its song. He slowly picks it up from the tray table and leans back into white pillows with closed eyes. He seemed close to death a few days ago, although he’s stable
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