My Sister Signed Papers Before I Was Dead

“My only concern is my sister’s dignity,” she said.

I watched from my hospital bed while a physical therapist bent my knee until I saw stars.

“My dignity,” I croaked.

The therapist, a woman named Mrs. Cobb who had no fear of rank or pain, said, “Save your breath for counting.”

I counted.

Badly.

The plan was for me to appear by video at the next hearing.

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