In the dark days of late Fall into early Winter of 1998, I lived between worlds. Mostly, I walked, slept, eat, drank, cried and prayed in and around the ICU at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia and on occasion would venture out onto the streets as family and friends insisted. As I reluctantly did so, I observed people living 'normal' lives in the midst of being on the edge of the life and death experience that I was immersed in. My husband had been admitted to the unit in a...
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