Tuesday, June 16, 2009


... in the ER.

Two daughters stare down at their mother in a hospital bed. The mother is in severe, chronic pain. Arthritis with chronic pain, morbid obesity and - most recently, a fall - have all taken their toll and the mother is begging to be allowed to die. When a Fentanyl patch and 15mg Oxycodone don't even touch the pain, and I ask to die, you'd better let me. No, strike that. You'd better help me.

Staring down at the mother they loved, an obvious prisoner of her own body, one fiercely muttered, "They'll found out what's wrong with you mom. We'll make them."

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