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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521665" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Doctor Said</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stroke was bad, and arriving at the hospital<br>we expected hushed, grim words <br>from the preoccupied doctor. <br>The doctor said it was brain-stem, hopeless; <br>the coma was total; his mind, the doctor said, <br>was at the bottom of a deep well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we entered his room and <br>saw the machinery of life-support, <br>reassuring noises, glowing red displays, <br>tubes and wires tethering his shattered mind to the bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The doctor said that Ed would not come back, <br>and we should cut off the milky food <br>flowing down a clear tube to his still living gut, <br>and give him a gentle death by starvation; <br>it would not be painful, the doctor knowingly said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But his coma was so restless and active, <br>his eyes were wide and darting, <br>his mouth opened, as though to speak, <br>and his legs rose and fell, <br>like he was walking to Sunday Mass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He looked alive, so we refused <br>and directed the nurses<br>to keep hope flowing, <br>at least for now.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When it was my turn to sit with him, <br>I said, “Hey Ed! You know, <br>I’ve been drinking all your beer at home, ” and he smiled <br>and looked at me with humor and said, “ohhh? ” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the doctor said it was automatic reflex, <br>and smiled indulgently at me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The next morning the doctor, <br>(expecting no response) said, <br>“Hello Ed. How are we feeling today? ” <br>but stopped, nothing to say at last, <br>when Ed replied, “Lousy! ” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ed lived for the next three years<br>as grandchildren were born, <br>baptisms were witnessed, <br>and first communions were celebrated, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and ready at last, he died <br>one bright, peaceful<br>April morning, <br>with nothing more<br>to be said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Steven+Federle">Steven Federle</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521665" data-title="The Doctor Said de Steven Federle" data-description="The stroke was bad, and arriving at the hospital
we expected hushed, grim words 
from the preoccupied doctor. 
The doctor said it was brain-stem, hopeless; 
the coma was total; his mind, the doctor said, 
was at the bottom of a deep well.

So we e..."></div>
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