Nonfiction | September 01, 2000

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Excerpt:

Bloated from steriods given in the ICU, my father-in-law’s hands lie inert on the sheets of his bed on the fourth floor of a Chicago-area hospital: Hospice Inpatient Unit. Touch those hands and you won’t feel skin, veins, the natural bumps and ridges of knuckles, cuticles, joints.

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