A decision to be made, which I was against.

I could be seeing myself in him and projecting a little, but also,

A desire in him that I know of, caused me to lean towards the harder.

A mother fearing death though, holding on to hope.

A room full of doctors worrying about numbers rather than a state of being.

Now we’re here.

“If he found his usual spirit and build up some muscle, he can gain part of what he lost, if not all” the doctor said. The same doctor who said his body is wasted.

I wouldn’t worry had he been in his relentless fighter mode. He’d get over it. And even if his body failed him, He’d be himself even without the ability to talk, walk or eat.

But with the state of hopelessness he’s been in since August of last year, which multiplied in the last 2 months,

it’s a sight of pain.