The doctor finally appeared. "Would you like to come with me now," he said, and I obediently followed him out of the ward into a side room, noting that we were being accompanied by a nurse. "Please take a seat," he stated as he and the nurse both took theirs. "No, thanks. I'd rather stand," I said firmly as I stood behind a vacant chair gripping its back. "Your husband is terminal and we have stopped all treatment, but he will be kept comfortable and free of pain. It could be within 24 hours or days, but it will not be weeks." Even though, deep down, I had been expecting this news, I had somehow always hoped he could and would be cured. Now it was impossible. Strangely, I stood there, calmly taking in the news. I did not break down, collapse, scream, shout or blame them - which is no doubt one of the reasons the nurse was present. I returned to Aleyn's room and stayed a while just to be in his presence. He was still not conscious, so I just held his hand and stroked his head, as if, in some remarkable way the stroking could still cure him. The 24-hour mark passed and he was still with me. Then two more days passed and still I continued my visits, talking to him, staying with him and unbelievably hoping for the impossible. "I love you so very, very much and I always will," I softy stated, as I stood at his bedside holding his hand the next day. Then totally unexpectedly, he lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. His eyes were closed, he was on morphine now and could no longer speak or swallow, but miraculously he had heard me, understood and was returning my love in the only way he could, despite the cancer now being in his brilliant brain. Six more days of visits passed without any form of acknowledgment of my presence and all I could do was stand close to him, as always, stroking his face, his head and continue holding his hand. The next day, however, I was able to lean over and kiss him. | 
