I tried to move but realized I couldn't feel any pain. That was fine, too.
Voices carried through the wall from outside the door. Every word came through perfectly clear. My mother was on the phone.
"Yes, cancel it. We're not doing the lung rejection surgery tomorrow. Give that private sterile room to Harry instead."
She kept her voice deliberately low against the receiver, her tone dripping with sincerity.
"It's fine. Libby's always been tough—a few more days won't kill her. Harry lost his birth parents. As his adoptive parents, we have to give him the highest level of security and comfort. Don't you think?"
But that surgery was the anti-rejection procedure I'd waited seven months for.
My respiratory system was failing a little more each day. My doctor had said that if we delayed any longer, I might not make it to spring.
She knew. She knew all of it.
Harrison's voice drifted in from the living room.
"Mommy, look! I sealed up all the cracks around the door!"
He ran to my bedroom door holding a can of industrial expanding foam sealant, spraying it along every gap and vent.
White foam expanded and hardened, sealing off the last of the air.
"Trapping the poison gas inside!"