I remember why I had to stop writing, I had to stop going to all these damn appointments because I chose to live over hanging out in waiting rooms.
I've enjoyed myself a little more ever since, but since I'm waiting, I've been people watching, listening to conversation among families that just found out their loved one has less than a week left.
It has to be one of the worst feelings.
The practical one says "well we all knew this was coming."
The other says something about delagating the belongings and the man, late sixties in a wheelchair, with oxygen in his nose whose glassy eyes are actually tears and who hasn't said a word. When I looked at him and smiled goodbye he looked away sadly.