“Outside her mother’s hospital room, gelling her hands clean. Next up, the mantras: Forty-five minutes are all I need to stay. Forty-five minutes look like love. Multiple attempts to visit the patient look like love. I will be kind. If not for her, then for the propitiation of God, in whose caprice illness comes and goes.So far the news was bad. Her mother had a stent and a clogged lumen in her calf. Immobility can do that, they said, can increase the threat of embolism. So they’d plunged a tube... in Marie’s leg. Her charge? Stay put or bleed out. For Anne-Janet, the sight had been dreadful, her mother’s lips collapsed for lack of teeth, the skin of her face pleated and wan. It was one thing to regard her own face and note the loss of its selling points—when was the last her eyes had spangled with the greens of mint and holly for which she was known?—but quite another to confront decay in her mother, who was timeless.“You’re up,” Anne-Janet said. “How are you feeling?”“You don’t want to be here,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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