Terminal Illness Revelry: Her Last Dinner
When my wife, Rosalie Wood, had her first meal after she regained consciousness, the attending doctor, Ethan Joeman, took my seat. He cut the steak while he pointed at her rosy face and looked at me with open defiance.
“Do you know how medical miracles happen? It is not because of your constant presence. It is because of my in‑depth treatment.”
My fingers that held the knife and fork turned pale.
Ethan grew even more brazen. His feet rubbed against my wife's calves under the table.
“A person in a vegetative state can still feel things. Every night after you left, I did awakening therapy for her. She said her body could not move, yet the sense of being conquered made her feel as though her