It Ain t Easy
The steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor was somehow soothing, sort of like elevator music, something that’s always there, but which you don’t notice unless it’s not there. I knew that as long as I heard that constant noise, things were all right. I was sitting in a chair in the intensive-care unit next to the prostrate form of my husband, who was just an hour or so out of open-heart surgery. At that moment, my emotions were just about wrung out. I had cried, I had prayed, I had raged...