Human resources declined my request for a temporary leave. I’d been harassing them for the last three days. And I received an e-mail from one of their minions this morning: I could take the remainder of my vacation time, which added up to eight days, or hand it my resignation. In the current situation, they couldn’t acquiesce to my request. I supposed that was reasonable enough.
But eight days. That wasn’t enough time. I needed more time. She needed more time.
Why couldn’t we get more bloody time together?
Aunt Fran suffered so. Of course, she denied it, but I could read it on her face every time she coughed, moved, breathed. They’d upped the morphine dosage, but she refused to let them reduce her to a bag of bones and drool, as she called it today.
In her room, I sat at her side, watc
