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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The first inkling of a breakthrough. Jim moved his finger today. I am horrified, knowing him. Knowing the vibrant, strong man, The proud man who lives captive inside this blank shell who cannot speak. Jim would not be cheering about moving a finger today. I want to help him break out of this body prison, but his relatives are all watching, And I live far, far away. Who am I anyway? His wife for a mere twenty-one years. I was the one who left, the one they blame now for everything that went badly. I try for three days to arrive at the hospital ahead of them, but his new family is perpetually there. I try to tell them what he wanted, but they would rather have Jim be body-here Than not here at all, so they keep him in this despicable state. What I had promised I would do if it ever came to this, I cannot do. I feel like a traitor, knowing that Jim would not have allowed a dog Or cat to survive in this catatonic state. My best friend has lost His ability to do anything but lift a finger, and here I sit, In despair, wondering if they simply do not know what to do? Do they not realize that what is waiting for him is so much better than this? Or do they simply not care? They already said he did not have a do not resuscitate order, And I know we had always had one during our twenty-one years together. Is this poetic justice for leaving me for his young, pretty assistant? She and I glare at each other, through our tears.
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