By Larry Puls @Larrypulsauthor
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| Death and Dying |
I stand at the door—afraid. Take a deep breath. Just another room. One I have been in a thousand
times before. Inside a bed, a bathroom, an IV pole—a friend. And while I stand
there, inside my head resides angst over the unrevealed information. Still
frozen in the hallway, I cannot reach out and touch the door handle. It seems
so foreboding and ominous, so far away. When I finally attempt the move, a
choking feeling ascends in my throat, weakening me—even for a minute. I am
paralyzed. You have to go in.
