"You-"
    Tears stream out of my eyes.
    "I-"
    Hisssss!  
    Clunk.
    "Love-"
    The noise is deafening.
    "Sister-"
    She's pale.  Ghostly white.
    "Dad-"
    Hisss!  Clunk.
    "Too."
    I'm wiping my eyes; fighting to get it together.
    "Turn-"
    The respirator.
    "Off!"
    It won't stop hissing.
    "Turn it-"
    The machine that keeps the dying alive.
    "Off-"
    'Welcome,
    To The Machine!'
    "Please-"
    I run out into the hall and up to the nurse's station.
    "She wants it off," I say and I'm crying.  I can't **** stop the tears.  "Turn it off!"
    They need a doctor.
    They call a doctor.
    The Doctor calls Administration.  Administration calls Security.  Security plants themselves in the doorway of her room.
    "We can't turn it off,"  I'm told.  "There is no Living Will."
    I'm not crying, anymore.
    I'm shocked.
    "But she wants it off."
    "There has to be a Living Will," the Administrator explains.
    I look at the Doctor.
    "Just turn it off," I tell him.  "You were in there.  You heard her."
    "I can't."
    Tears are filling my eyes again.
    "You have to."
    "I can not.  I can not do this."
    "So you're going to keep her alive?  For what?  So you can run up the bill?  So you can hit the insurance companies with more charges?  So you can have more money?  Is this why you're a **** doctor?"
    "No!"  The Doctor yells and two things suddenly occur to me.  The Doctor standing in front of me is a kid; younger than I am and he's not even American.  He's somewhere from the Middle East.
    "This is not my way!"  He cries.  "This is not my country!  This is the way of your people; your country!"
    "Not today," I tell him.
    I turn towards the room and a Security Guard grabs me.  I throw my weight back and knock him against a wall.  An older guard is coming at me, but he's scared and I easily step around him.  I'm almost through the door when someone reaches out and grabs my arm.  I turn around, swinging.
    It's Doctor Springer and he blocks my blow.
    "Wait a minute!"  He yells.
    He starts pulling me up the hall.
    "You go home and I'll take care of this."
    "What can you do?"
    "I'm her physician.  I prescribe the medication."
    I go home.
    At 3:27 A.M. the phone rings.
    It's Doctor Springer.
    "She's Gone."