text: “We need to get it done today,” the doctor tells the nurse as they walk into my room. “Before the girl sways them.* “I agree. The family will be here shortly.” I just lay here, eyes closed. Weak. I hear them pushing buttons, turning pages, fiddling with the IV bag and scribbling notes. The faint but comforting sound of voices I recognise claw through my fatigue. I'm exhilarated, but they all stop before the door opens and my family walks in silently. The beep of the heart rate monitor has increased in tempo, and seemingly in volume although that may be due to the silence that is suffocating the room. They never know what to say when they see me like this. “Doctor Bunt,” my wife, Rachael, greets solemnly. “Edna.” “It happened again,” Lacy says. “When we got here.” She’s talking about the beeping. “Lacy, please,” Rachael sighs, exasperated. Lacy is my little girl. My little gummy bear, although she hates it when call her that these days. Somehow, eyes still shut, I sense my brother and father are also here, although they've remained silent. “Thanks for visiting,” I say. “It means a lot. I know it must be a chore for you, but... Thank you.” Nobody replies. There’s nothing to reply to. “Are you sure you want everybody here for this?” Edna asks. “It’s Lacy’s father,” my brother, David, says, not beating around the bush. “She has as much of a right to know what’s happening as the rest of us do. More so, even.” Edna sighs. Not a sigh born from sympathy or even resignation: Irritation. I suppose, in her line of work, giving bad news to adults is hard enough. “The truth, Mrs. Newman,” the doctor takes over, “is that we would have expected to see some kind of response by now if your husband was going to make any kind of recovery.” He lets that hang before taking a breath as if to speak again. He doesn’t get a chance. “He is responding,” Lacy asserts, voice raised. “Lacy-” “No, Mum! He is! Every time we come here his heart rate goes up. He knows we’re here. Maybe on some level he hears or smells us or- Or something!" Her voice gets higher the harder she tries to control her emotions. "He knows we're here!" “Lacy,” I say, softly. “Of course I do. I know you’re here, bear. I hear you." I will the words to come the same way I always have but I make no sound and I move no muscle. “The doctor has explained to you over and over-” “It’s not random! It’s every time. As soon as we walk in. It's not- it's not random, Mum, please." “She’s right,” I’m insisting, silently. “I know this is hard for you, Lacy,” Bunt soothes. “But your father’s heart rate jumps up and down every few minutes or so. Our brains are programmed to find patterns in random events, especially in times of stress. You’re finding reasons to believe he’s still with us simply because you want nothing more than for it to be true. "I understand. We all do. But you must try to understand the facts. I’m sorry, Lacy, his increases or decreases in heart rate are not a response to anything in particular. It's simply a part of his condition.” “But- But he- It never goes down or stays-” “Lacy!” Rachael snaps. “Listen to her,” I’m pleading. For the first time I’m worried that they... They’ll... I’m worried that they won’t wait any longer. “I know he can hear us! Look!” I wonder what she’s pointing at, when I realise the beeps have gotten faster again. Much faster. “He’s listening now!” She screaming, now. Crying hysterically. “He can hear all of this. Dad, I promise, I won't let them-” “Lacy, for God’s sake,” Rachael pleads, rather than scoulds. “I can’t- Will one of you, please...” she trails off. My father clears his throat and slaps his thighs, which he always does before he gets to his feet. “No, Dad, wait,” I plead. “Come on, Lacy,” he says. “No," she croaks, "I’m not leaving him.” “Let’s just go for a little walk. He’ll be here when you get back. Come on, kid, let's talk about this.” “No, wait! Don’t you take my daughter away. Don't you dare!" “You won’t listen to me,” she sulks. "Please, Dad, don’t take my Lacy away from me. Please." “I promise you that I will. Your mum just needs a minute and then we can come back and talk to her together. Okay? Come on, darling.” "Bear?" I ask as if I'd get an answer. With that I hear the two of them leave the room. “No, Lacy! You have to- You know I’m here. You have to tell them! Lacy? Bear?” She’s gone and my words bounce around within my head, desperately searching for a way into the world. “What I need to tell you, Mrs. Newman. Mr. Newman...” Mr? Me? He knows that I'm- No. No, he’s talking to David. “It can’t be sugar coated, I'm afraid.” My wife says nothing. My brother, true to character, minces no words. “He’s already gone, isn’t he?” “The machines are keeping his body alive, but... Yes. He’s braindead.” “No! I’m not! I can hear you, I can hear everything.” I’m shouting and writhing, kicking and screaming, but none of the signals are getting to the necessary muscles or they’re not being sent at all. “I’m right here! I’m still here!” “Then...” Rachael’s voice cracks. “Then let him go.” “No, Rachael.” In my head, I’m sobbing. I’m not sure if the tears are real. “Rachael, honey, please. Please hear me. Please feel that I’m here.” “He wouldn’t want to be... Like this.” The heart rate monitor sounds like a fire alarm. No one else seems to be able to hear it. David agrees. “Would you like to be here?” “I-” I’d never heard David cry before now. "I don’t think I can do it, Rach. I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay,” Rachael whispers. “I should be with him. I’ll stay.” I’m kicking my feet and flailing my arms. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, no longer bothering with words. Just noise and movement, as much as possible. Maybe something will make it through. A single squeak or croak. A twitch or a tear. That’s all it will take. Anything. Any sign, before... I feel a warmth spreading from the IV. A warmth. A burn! A searing fire crawling up my arm! I’m still screaming, now in pain as well as fear. “I’m still here! Rachael, honey, please!” “How long?” she asks, her voice steadier now. Resolute. “You have only a few seconds.” I feel the mask pull away. I feel Rachael’s hair as she leans over me. I feel the inferno crawling towards my heart. She whispers in my ear, “I just need you to know one last thing before you go, my love.” The moment the fire reaches my heart it explodes out in all directions. An agony beyond anything I’d ever experienced before or ever would again. Or so I thought. Over the smouldering pain and through my fading consciousness, I can only just focus on Rachael's final words to me. “I know you’re awake.