I'm taking care of a very old, frail man. He can only whisper. I ask him what he needs and he says, "Don't leave." He grabs my hand, weakly. I hold it for a few minutes. Is he going to die tonight?
A few minutes later his daughter comes in and sits with him. She smells strongly of marijuana. She looks at him with love - it is her that takes care of him at home. I tell him, "I can tell you're a good man by how much people love you." He gives a faint smile and his opaqued eyes light up a bit.
The next morning he is better. Out of the woods for now, a little more strength, rehydrated.