The young girl first appeared in my hospital doorway on a quiet afternoon.
I was seventy-two, tethered to machines, and six weeks into a losing battle with stage IV lung cancer. No wife. No children. No family left. Just an old biker waiting for the inevitable in a room that smelled of disinfectant and loneliness.
The nurses did their best, …
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
