LIFE SUPPORT

I sat with the young man in the back of the ambulance, gently holding his hand. A monitor on a shelf translated bodily travails into cold, inscrutable data. He managed to maintain eye contact with me, and occasionally offered a resigned smile. I tried to look nonchalant, feigning interest in the everyday details of his life, while in my peripheral vision a vivid green line spiked and dipped across a scrolling grid, as fickle digits twitched. He remained composed and that, under the circumstances, was admirable. And all the while, a fist was closing tighter and tighter around my heart.