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Show 275 Sad Eyes His eyes are haunting me. It was not his fault. I was home, still so very stiff and curled, but home. The new home health nurse had not turned off her pager so, when it went off, when I was already stiffened from my young son's accidently dropping a cup, I went into full spasms. Maybe I would have come out of the cup hitting the floor. But the additional stimulus of the loud and suddenbeeping of her pager propelled me into an irreversible sequelae. I would have to go to the hospital for massive medication. I would have to get there by ambulance. "It's not your fault," I was telling him, but he was not receiving this information. His eyes were telling me this by their not looking at me. His body was telling me this by his slumping as he walked to the door next to the gurney, next to me, arching, in the gurney. They were collapsing the gurney into the ambulance and he had come outside to its doors, his eyes now meeting mine, sad, forlorn, withdrawn from all possible comfort. "It's not your fault!" I was yelling to him from inside the ambulance but he did not reply as they closed the doors against his yearning. |