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Show 252 As a Child "I want you to understand that your mom might not make it through the night." Dr. Chappie has called my family from home to come to my bedside this evening. I have been overdosing so frequently and so seriously and so unpredictably that it is necessary they understand the possible outcome. It is important that they not be caught by surprise. I am looking from one young face to the next. There is yearning on one. Surprise on another. Tears are coming into eyes all around the room but one son is not looking at anyone. His face is set into an odd determination and he is staring firmly at the wall beyond my bed. Is he refusing to cry? I am wondering. "It won't happen," he is saying, quietly. I am not certain I have understood him. "I said, it won't happen," he is saying, more loudly. He has gotten up out of his chair and is walking away from the bed towards the window. "She's not going to die." He is ten years old and is speaking with the bitter certainly of an old man who has seen too much pain. |