Satisfied, she knelt beside me. Her nails scraped my hand as she twisted off my wedding ring.
“Better remove this now,” she muttered. “Fingers swell when the heart stops.”
Then she called Madison.
“It’s done,” Margaret said smoothly. “He’s on the floor. Bring the blue binder. We need the medical power of attorney and the Do Not Resuscitate order ready before anyone calls paramedics.”
I had never signed a DNR.
Fifteen minutes later, the front door burst open.
“Dad!” Ethan shouted.
He dropped beside me and shook my shoulders.
“Mom, what happened? Call 911!”
For one brief second, warmth filled my chest.
He cared.
Blood didn’t matter. This was the boy I had raised.
Then Madison’s voice cut through the room.
“Don’t touch that phone, Ethan.”
He froze.
“What are you talking about? He’s having a heart attack!”
“He is supposed to be having a heart attack,” Margaret said coldly. “He signed a DNR. We have to respect his wishes.”
