| OCR Text |
Show 293 barely breathe. I cannot swallow. I am tasting the bitter medicines she has crushed into the applesauce and understand that she does not understand anything. I am gagging and she is shoveling spoonful after spoonful of medication-laden applesauce into my mouth. More of it is dribbling out the other side of my mouth, smearing my face and slicking my pillow, than is going into my mouth and even less is swallowed but still she persists. At last she is putting down the spoon and, apparently satisfied, is leaving the room. She returns moments later with a single syringe filled, I am hoping, with Versed. But because she is not also holding the box with many vials ofthe drug, it is apparent that she does not understand just how much Versed is now required to halt these spasms and I know this will be a long morning before I can no longer remember it. "I'd like to go for a 'walk,'" I am telling her. I am hating myself for the deceit. "You're not going anywhere after that," she is saying, referring to the many hours it took her to gain control ofthe massive spasms, not knowing how to hit the spasms head-on with the Versed. When it was finally over, she had insisted on giving me a bed bath before handing over my cold breakfast. |
