He stared at her through half-closed eyes. "Help," he wheezed. His hand groped for hers.
        "I'm really screwed up this time, aren't I, Mom?" he whispered.
        "Yes, honey, you are. I love you, son," she answered. Her voice broke and tears slowly made their way down her face. She reached to smooth back his beautiful hair, what was left of it after the last few weeks of treatment. He'd cried when it began to fall out. So had she.
        "You know I love you too. Tell Grandma goodbye for me." He fought hard for breath. Then the room went silent.