We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
Katy Butler is a former big-city newspaper reporter and lapsed Buddhist living in Mill Valley, California, where she worships Mount Tamalpais, bakes apple crisp, and is learning to dance the Lindy. Her nonfiction has appeared in the New Yorker, Vogue, and Mother Jones. Her poem in this issue is the first she’s had published since high school.
The palliative-care nurse came one morning and put her ear on his gurgling chest. He had pneumonia, she said. He was finally dying decisively enough to qualify for hospice. Thanks to our involvement with her program, he would not meet his death in intensive care after a panicked stop in an emergency room. The nurse called the hospital and made the arrangements, and my mother called an ambulance.
April 2014Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
SEND US A LETTER