What's it like to face death every night? you ask. What exactly is it like I ask myself. Tonight. Every night, almost. Every time Sophie has a seizure. Every morning when I go to her room that short walk down the hallway to her room. Will she stop breathing in the interval between my comforting my attendance and my stance at the sink rinsing the syringe clear of the syrup (poison) I've shot into her day night day night day night day night day night day night day night day night. Will she have stopped breathing in the night and lie warm or cold in her bed? This is not morbid. I am not a soldier. The things I carry.
Focus is a sort of strength that few of us have but which is necessary for all of the noblest endeavors from art to science to facing death daily and keeping it at bay.
Focus is a sort of strength that few of us have but which is necessary for all of the noblest endeavors from art to science to facing death daily and keeping it at bay.