Fighting agaist death

"5 Fighting agaist death" was the title of the book she was reading. Apparantly a tale of heroism and bravery in the dry heat of the desert sun. I tried to convince her to take a look at the 'Out There' magazine, but without much success. 'n Few minutes earlier she was telling me about how she was told last year that she only had a few months left. Two in fact, give or take a few days.

It made me wonder about mortality and old age in general. She was coughing badly the last two weeks and she wasn't shure, but she thinks she coughed up a piece of lung the other day. The cancer had spread through her right side and since she coughed up the piece she feels a pain in her chest.

I feel helpless in the face of such suffering. Naked and helpless. She laughs as I try to exchange her book with the magazine, and I wonder what use she would have for a book about far away places she would probably never see. But then I remember the power of a dream, and I make sure that we deliver the book with her medicine tonight. Just in case she needs something else than a desert to dream about heroism and bravery and fighting death.

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