14 of those 21 days in, the doctor told us, behind closed doors, that the person we knew and dearly loved was no longer there.
Two days later, the doctor told us it would be unethical for them to try to keep you alive.
We found this hard to accept. How could someone say this? It sounded like reading out a death sentence to the innocent.
They took off the ventilator. They took off the feeding tube. They took off the intravenous fluid. You are now in your natural state, they said.
They replaced the array of instruments that beeped every few minutes or seconds with a clock that ticked away silently.
The clock felt ironic. The clock drove home in no uncertain terms that they were waiting for you to die. We were waiting for you to die because we were told there was nothing left for you.
Minutes turned to hours. Hours turned to days.
We couldn't accept this any more. Surely you were not meant to die! You were alive with no medicines, no intervention, no ventilator, no food, no water! There had to be some sort of mistake!
You were moved from the cold dark ICU to a sunny private room. You seemed better. Would they let us take you home? We didn't know if we could even ask the question and if they would find it ridiculous.
23 days after you entered the hospital, you went home. Not your home on earth though.
"This body, this body holding me
Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me
Feeling eternal, all this pain is an illusion"
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