Elusive

We arrived at the hospital room to find him supine in the hospital bed, his head at the top and his feet dangling over the bottom edge. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. He groaned with every breath, but his eyes were closed, not clenched. The feeding tube was still in place in his nostrils, but no green-brown liquid filled the plastic. The end was looped and clipped to his gown. An intravenous tube hung from a pole, taped at one end to the inside of his elbow. Fluids had replaced his nutrition.

The nurse came in, then a social worker. We spoke in hushed tones or left the room when the D-word could not be avoided. Death was sometimes delayed, they both agreed, but it could not be far off. We worked together to get him into a more comfort-oriented facility. By the second afternoon, all the papers signed, an ambulance picked him up and took him to hospice. He settled in, breathed a while longer for a visitor, and relaxed. The elusive guest arrived when he was alone at last.

[Thanks to Zed for the promt.]