Premature Heroism

12 weeks early—a death sentence back then. Heart failure; kidney shut-down. Prolonged ventilation, so his lungs collapsed. Ten chest tubes, total. His blood pressure tanked. His brain bled.

We were called to say goodbye to him on a rare occasion when we weren't hovering in vigil. We never left his side again.

We hung on. He hung on.

Heart rhythm stabilized; we cried. Blood pressure rose; we cheered. A drop of urine; we celebrated. His lungs stopped collapsing. 38 years later, he has no idea of his struggle to be what we non-heroes take for granted every living day: alive.