I love this whimsical account of Michael Flynn's recent battle with with death, all the more so because my father passed away last month in circumstances all-too reminiscent of parts of Flynn's description, but really because of his ending, a reminder that death is only postponed before it finally prevails, and, yet, finally death is itself defeated:
TOF went to sleep.
In the morning, he awoke and KIDNEY-MAN entered the room. "The kidney has begun working!" Preparations were already underway to move TOF to normal care facilities.
The struggle is still underway, and it is still uphill; though yesterday it was announced that "the kidney has turned a corner," a good thing if you turn with it. Today, TOF felt well enough to essay this account, whimsical as it is.
"I am not defeated," said Death, where he lay supine on the floor. "You may have defeated me with the heart attack, and now with the septic shock. But in the end, I always win."
And I learned over and whispered maliciously in his horny ear. "Easter is coming."
"Easter is coming."
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