Daisy had never been in an intensive care room before. Scrubbing and putting on a hospital gown over her clothes before entering Maxine’s room had only heightened her anxiety. “These are precautions,” the nurse said, trying her best to answer Daisy’s questions. “The doctor will be by later this afternoon. Your sister is holding her own. She’s a fighter.” Daisy nodded. She held Maxine’s fingers in her hand while doing her best to ignore the tubes and monitoring cables that formed a massive complex of lines to and from her body. Lights blinked on four machines. The intermittent beeps mesmerized only to be broken by occasional ragged breaths her sister made around the tube stuck down her throat. Cleaning detergent odors mingled with those of the human body to assault the senses. Daisy nearly gagged on the metallic taste encrusting her tongue. “Five more minutes,” the nurse instructed. “You can talk to her. She may be able to hear you; we’re never certain. The doctor doesn’t want to rush her because her body needs this time to heal.
