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May 19, 2013

L drank the proverbial ‘Kool-Aid’ ® back then, and had fallen for another round, but that being water under the dam, no one beside her was making a sound. The breathing in silence was rhythmic; profound.

After a spell, one of the attendant RN’s urged us to leave so the caregivers could wash L.

Interesting: was this a premonition of sure death, a pre-emptive washing ritual, or a manifestation of the rushed, impatient, harried state of affairs our collective lifestyles had become?

I mean, aren’t you supposed to wait until the patient is a cadaver before you wash her/him?