Maisie shuddered, a splash of yellow ocher, edges glowing gold, exploded on the blank screen of her eyelids. She emerged from oblivion through a whirling, swirling, nauseating tunnel; dim lights circled jerkily, shifting, but always out of focus.

     “How’s it going, sugar?”  A whiff of vanilla stimulated Maisie’s senses. The nurse, gently wiping her face with a cool moist cloth, went on to take her temperature and check her pulse. “Sleep good?”   

     Maisie awoke. Aware, her mind sharp, her body a relentless trap; limbs floating, uncontrollably like huge bloated tree stumps. Breathing, once effortless, a painfully mechanical force, as she wheezed harshly, in and out.

     Dimmed lights illuminated the hospital room with a soft warm glow. A clock on the wall marked time as minute by minute life slowly passed. The nurse checked her IV lines, oxygen settings, and straightened up the mask covering her mouth, all the while chatting cheerily, a soft Southern lilt to her voice. Tennessee, Maisie decided, definitely Tennessee. Then she was gone and Maisie was alone.        The hands on the clock had scarcely moved when the quiet was interrupted by her chattering daughters entering the room.  Maisie looked for her granddaughter, but she wasn’t with them.  She was especially partial to Jenny, she had to admit.

     “Mother, how are you?” Jessica asked. “It’s Jess and Daphne. Jenny will be along later. Sorry to be late, but we’ve had such a day.”

     Daphne bent close to kiss her, anxiously brushing a lock of hair off of her mother’s face, then with a scrape, pulled up a chair and sat down. “How’s it going, Momma?”

     Maisie thought about a warm response, a friendly query, but her body refused. She caught a ragged breath, overwhelmed with frustration and despair.

     “I can’t stand it, Jess” Daphne said. “She looks terrible”

     Jessica’s whisper, almost a hiss, sizzled in Maisie’s heart. “For God’s sake, Daph, we’ve got to think about letting her go.  She pulled her own chair closer to Daphne, punctuating her words with a discordant clash of bracelets. Jessica always wore too much jewelry, Maisie thought – a regular walking Christmas tree.