For the next two weeks, the world and all other issues would be omitted. We were two people alone in a hospital room. We allowed no visitors. We had two weeks of near-silence with each other and my increasing helplessness. I tended to tangle the IV and misplace the oxygen tube. As I started to say earlier, I could feel no sensible interest in the future. The moments became extraordinarily dimensionless - not without value but flat and a great deal emptier. When you learn you're fatally ill, time becomes very confusing, perhaps uninteresting, pedestrian. But my not caring if I lived or died hurt Ellen. And I was grateful that I could indulge my cowardice toward death in terms of living for her.

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About Harold Brodkey

Harold Brodkey was American short-story writer and novelist. Harold Brodkey, born Aaron Roy Weintraub, was an American short-story writer and novelist. Read more on Wikipedia →

Themes

  • Life — Reflections on the meaning, challenges, and beauty of life
  • Time — Reflections on the passage of time and how we spend it

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