Hello,Husband,Goodbye
As we step into the hospital, our footsteps echoing through the halls, we are greeted by a kind nurse at the entrance of the ICU.
"May I assist you?" she asks, her voice filled with compassion.
"I'm here to visit Marcus Johnson," I reply, my voice steady despite the nerves.
"He's in room 204," the nurse informs us, pointing down the hallway.
Following her guidance, we navigate through the corridors until we reach Marcus' room. With a deep breath, I push open the door.
Inside, Marcus lies motionless on the bed, connected to various machines that emit a symphony of beeps and whirs. Tubes protrude from his mouth and nose, a stark reminder of his fragile state.
Bab Populer