Ken
On Friday night I was crying because I was afraid to go to work the next day. I was going to be by myself in the house, and I was scared that Ken was going to die or try to get out of his bed and fall like he did last week.
"Would it help any if I came to work with you?" Emily said.
"Yes," I said. So she got up at 6:30 on a Saturday morning and came to work with me for eight hours. I think I've mentioned before how much Emily rocks, but I think it bears repeating. She's one of the best people I've ever been privileged to know. And she just got her LSATs back and scored in the top 2%, so she's going to get into a great school next year and eventually abolish the death penalty.
Sitting with Ken every day this week, it got to be less scary to be with a dying man. I've never really had any experience with death before this, so my ideas were taken from movies and books, where it's really dramatic. On Sunday, Ken said "You love me, don't you?" to me. "I sure do," I said. No other reason would I be there, really, bathing him and changing his diapers. I've found that I can do anything as long as I have gloves on. When I first started to work here, he was the one I dreaded most, because he was so demanding and I couldn't understand him that well. But the last few days was a complete change. He was happy that we were letting him die like he wanted, at home, and he kept telling me that I was good and thanking me for everything I did. It made a hard situation a lot easier. And now I think he's in heaven, where finally there is no pain for him, and he can walk freely once again.
