The machine feeding air through little tubes into both nostrils (tubes so small, they seem so inadequate) plays the rhythm of a regular beat in the background. It’s repetitive sound is like that of the bellows of a pump, and it sounds like it is coming from far off in the distance, from outside the room.
Eyes are closed, and he is seemingly at peace, who knows what if anything is going through his mind. Can he hear the voices speaking to him? Give us a sign, a smile. I know we are being selfish.
There is the silent scream as pain wracks the body while I watch. It is visible only in the eyes.
And then it is back to a to a deep, deep, sleep that nothing, not even my melodious (maybe only to me :-)) voice, can disturb – must be the effect of the pain medications.
Death hovers in the background, waiting patiently as the body slowly consumes its reserves of energy, waiting for the inevitable.
May it be a peaceful one.
Splattered Brains 