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Show 279 The-only-way-you-know-its-bad-news-is-if-you-decipher-the-extensive-use-of-vocabulary-along- with-my-medical-j argon. I couldn't understand him. But then again, I didn't need to. My father was the one to watch. I searched for the happy creases that usually lined his face when he would read to us in his funny made-up character voices. Nothing. I tried to glean from him a thoughtful pose that he normally would cast as he talks about stories of his past. Gone. I looked for a glint ofthe joy I usually saw as he taught me something new. Instead, I saw hopelessness drift over my father's face as he watched my mother lie inert on the bed. I understood him. Six months earlier we had been in this exact same room, watching my father have the exact same conversation. The dog barked behind my mother, scaring her. The ambulance came, and the doctor droned on. It wasn't all bad. My mother, when she was well, was happy. Right before my mother got released that time, she played games with us. She was almost healthy and wanted to make sure we were O.K. Holding her breath, she pointed to the heart monitor above her bed. We laughed as the monitor began to go from green to red. The nurses didn't much like this game. But it didn't matter. But none of that would happen tonight. Tonight she was sick. |