When I filled her prescription for morphine, it was for a ninety day supply. Hansel had told me that she had three months. Every morning, as I took one tablet out, I counted my blessings. By the time that the last few pills rattled around the plastic bottle, my heart was in pieces.
Sure enough, just as we got to the last dose, I knew it was time to make the call. It was the longest three months of my long life and the shortest; the sweetest and the saddest.
These days I notice the level of every bottle of shampoo, every decanter of brandy. I don't want to miss a moment.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
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