0 When..

Two months pass. The bed has been her closest friend, providing comfort none of us could give. Comfort that is detrimental to her well-being. Her muscles are weakening from the lack of activity.

Aunt Em's in the hospital again. She had been reluctant to leave the house for so long, but was forced to when she could no longer withstand the pain that has been plaguing her in the wee hours of the morning. The lack of sleep was disrupting her mood and appetite.

She cries silently in the chill of the night and prays fervently for a miracle. I am powerless to help her. I spout words of encouragement but it seems hollow when it is so easily spoken since I am not the sufferer.

Its been days, emotionless machines monitor her vital stats. A drip is inserted into the wrinkled flesh of her bone-thin hand. We wait...for good news to arrive.

When will we reach the T junction that gives us at least options, to proceed. The road is dimly lit? Can it get no brighter?