My father died in a car accident; my mother was widowed with four children at 29. This made a huge impression on me growing up. Rick and I bought life insurance two weeks after we were married. We would be prepared for whatever life threw at us. When our first son was born, we added to it. If Rick were to die I would be okay, financially. This was no consolation; I wanted my husband to live.
When the EMTs arrived on the day we were to go home, they were glum-looking characters. I explained to them the state of Rick’s bones and the need to be careful with him. They gave me that "We've heard it all before, Ma'am." look, as if to dismiss me.
It was quite a feat to figure out where to put the stretcher and how to transfer him; evidently, this was not the usual patient transport. They moved him to the stretcher and then began maneuvering it to exit the room. All of a sudden the stretcher collapsed and Rick went crashing down, still strapped in and on the stretcher but Rick started writhing in pain.
KILL THEM BOTH, DEAD!