| Nov 12, 2011
| 7:54 PM
Last time I wrote about my dad, he'd taken a fall in his bedroom, couldn't get up, but didn't want yet another ride in an ambulance. So my mother got down on the floor with him, pulled up a blanket and they went to sleep.
This time they went down...
| Feb 19, 2012
"I'm not sick; I'm only dying," a friend told Dr. William Lamers Jr. The man had inoperable cancer and wanted to go home to die, but his doctor wouldn't let him out of the hospital.
It was the early 1970s, when most people with incurable illnesses died...
| Mar 1, 2012
When my 14-year-old niece Lindsey died last year, my friend Mary took it personally. Although separated by decades, Mary Schnack and Lindsey Stewart shared a common menace: cancer.
Lindsey was diagnosed at age 10 with medulloblastoma, brain cancer. The...
| Apr 13, 2007
| 12:56 AM
My dad did everything he could to look his best that morning. He shaved, brushed his hair and changed into a clean shirt.
I stepped into his room, where he lay on his bed, propped up with pillows. His face was pale and his eyelids heavy; an oxygen...