The nurses came and went as the night went on. At first it was just routine. They were clearly used to this. But then, their behaviors started to change. The visits were twice an hour, as her case was so critical. Every thirty minutes a nurse came into the room, checked her vitals, examined the recordings of her brain activity, and marked it all down on her chart. After smiling kindly at the man still seated at his side, the nurse usually just left. A couple times, she asked him if there was anything he needed.<br/><br/>After the second hour, however, things changed. She didn't appear bored as she marked down whatever she found on the machines hooked to his wife. When she left this time, she returned only ten minutes later, this time with the same doctor who'd treated her before. It was the middle of the night now, and he was visibly exhausted, but his eyes were full of alarm. Something was clearly wrong. He turned to the man he knew was her husband, feeling the weight of grief. He was about to deliver some very bad news. This was the part of his job that he hated most. It never got any easier.<br/><br/>"Mr. Jacobs..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "We should discuss your wife's condition. Her coma was precarious from the start. It seems her condition has deteriorated. Her brainwaves are erratic and weak. There is activity in her mind. But it is disjointed. There is no sense to be made of it. I'm sorry, Mr. Jacobs. I think it may be time for you to consider the possibility that we may have to discontinue life support if this doesn't change within a few days. I've never seen anything like this. Her brain is still active, but... I can't explain it. It is like her brain, or her mind, however you like to think of it, has shattered. I can't be sure she will ever wake up."