Chapter 3 — Through the Gap

I braced for a nightmare — surgeons, monitors, the flat whine of a failing heart.

What I saw stopped my breath for an entirely different reason.

My mother, Marcia, was sitting up in the bed, color good, breathing easy, hooked to nothing at all.

No monitor, no IV, no oximeter clip.

She was fluffing the pillow behind her back and picking at the collar of a hospital gown she plainly did not need.

There was no emergency.