"I write for the same reason I breathe . . . because if I didn't, I would die." -Isaac Asimov
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
It Happened.
I got a text on tuesday that said, "Hey its ilenes sister I was told to ask if you want to come see Ilene and say goodbye?" Because of how well she was doing on her birthday, I thought saying "goodbye" meant she was healthy enough to be moved to UofM. I was wrong. I rushed to Bronson and went into her room by myself. It was completely full of people. Everybody was cying. Her sister, Sarah, let me take her spot for a few minutes to hold Ilene's hand and talk to her. I told her that she was strong. I told her I loved her and she did her job here on earth. I told her to have fun with Alex and tell her I said "hello." Then I backed against the wall to leave room for other people. The pictures I gave her on her birthday were propped up on the table at the foot of her bed. She was all white and cold; there were no tubes connected to her. It's because her dad signed a DNR on monday. She took a quick, shaky, shallow breath every five seconds and I could hear the mucus when she did. It was completely silent except for people sniffing their noses. I got there just in time: after 10 minutes of being in the room, she stopped breathing. I watched Ilene die. I'm the only Musketeer left.
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