Lack of food and water had taken a swift toll. She lay naked on the hospital bed, soft fleece blankets draped over her private bits and the white wisps of her hair surrounding her face like a halo. A fan gently blew cool air on her feverish body and damp cloths draped her forehead and neck. Her limbs were mere sticks and she had to be turned every few hours to prevent bed sores. The vibrant, quirky woman of only 63 was now reduced to barely more than a skeleton, eyes sunken in her face and breathing so shallow that one had to watch closely to see that she was actually still alive.
“Hey, Kitty Kat, it’s Heidi,” I whispered softly. I didn’t want to wake her but I also didn’t want to startle her if she awoke and found me at her side.
He tied the rubber tube around his upper arm, holding one end with his teeth to pull it taut. He made a tight fist, took in a breath and jammed the needle into the bulging muscle. Breathing out and releasing the tourniquet, he stared at the reflection in his bedroom mirror. Not big enough.
It was her birthday and she had gone for a morning summer sail alone. She dropped the anchor in a cove off her favorite beach at Angel Island, stretched out in the sunshine and fell asleep. She dreamt of pristine white sand beaches and clear, turquoise water, delicate coral waving from rocky reefs teeming with rainbow-hued fish and dolphins playing tag with each other. She swam for hours in her dream, at ease with the sea creatures swirling around her and never needing to come up for air.
Vivo O Sonho 