The Last Tape

The bustle of the hospital was a welcome distraction as I
opened my new patient's chart and headed for her room. My son, Eric, had just brought home

a disappointing report card, and my daughter, Shannon, and I had argued again about her getting a driver's license. For the next eight hours I wanted

to throw myself into helping people who I knew had much more to worry about than I did.
Rebekah was only 32, admitted for chemotherapy after breast-cancer surgery, When I entered her room it took me a moment to spot her amid the

bouncing forms of three giggling little girls.
I told Rebekah I would be her nurse and she introduced her husband, Warren; six-year-old Ruthie; four-year-old Hannah; and two-year-old Molly.

Warren coaxed the girls away from their mother with a promise of ice cream and assured Rebekah they would return the next day.