The Hospice Bed: A Letter From Jim
Dear CCW family, The year is 2028. A man drove up in a paneled truck, parked in the driveway, then introduced himself at the front door as “the man with the hospice bed.” They were expecting him. Everything had been done that could have been done, according to his choices, and now there was nothing left but to die. He was a very old man, but was conscious and could communicate — a remarkable privilege for almost all of those…