and to live in that vacuous uncreated space alone with the Word.
People talk about the courage of cancer patients, and I do not deny that courage.
I had been poked and stabbed and poisoned for years, and still I trod on.
But make no mistake: In that moment, I would have been very, very happy to die.
I woke up in the ICU. I could tell I was in the ICU because I didn’t have my own room,
and because there was so much beeping, and because I was alone:
They don’t let your family stay with you 24/7 in the ICU at Children’s because it’s an infection risk.
There was wailing down the hall. Somebody’s kid had died. I was alone.
I hit the red call button. A nurse came in seconds later.
“Hi,” I said. “Hello, Hazel. I’m Alison, your nurse,” she said.
“Hi, Alison My Nurse,” I said. Whereupon I started to feel pretty tired again.
But I woke up a bit when my parents came in, crying and kissing my face repeatedly,
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