Dread and panic were flushing back inside me just as soon as I thought I finally managed to trickle the last of it out of my system.
Now its return, resurging with a vengeance - having to watch her, hear her, as every ounce of her strength and energy was literally being sapped from her skin, and dreading the anticipation of her every breath suddenly being her last.
Sitting here and racking my brain for ideas was only blanking my mind even more - but nevertheless, I have to think, grasp at every loose straw that flutters by - I have to try.
"You know, I'm starting to feel a little woozy now…" Mom said, absentmindedly voicing her thoughts out loud. "A little funny…"
She looked up at me, realized the grim implications of her previous remark, and just calmly shook her head after.