graceful hands

I have never seen Mrs. Clark before, but I know from her medical chart图/图表，制
will die.
The only light in her room is coming from a piece of medical equipment医疗设备, which is flashing闪着its red lightas if in warning似乎在发出警告. As I stand there, the smell hits my nose, and I close my eyes as I remember the smell气味of decay 变坏，腐烂from past experience. In my mouth I have a sour, vinegar醋taste coming
silently静静的lights 照亮the scene场景（病房）, I return to the bed to observe观察the patient with an unemotional, medical eye.无动于衷的，医生的目光
Mrs. Clark is dying临终的/奄奄一息的/渴望的.She lies motionless一动不动的:the head seems unusually large on a skeleton/skelitn/骨骼，骨瘦如柴的body; the skins
hide松松地裹在嶙峋的、连毛毯也遮掩不住的骨骼上; the rightarm lies straight out at the side, taped录音;用带子捆起来cruelly残酷地;残暴地to a board板to secure保护a needle so that fluid液体，流体may drip in滴下; 滴出;the left arm is across the sunken 沉没的;凹陷的chest箱子;胸部, which rises and falls一起一伏with the uneven不均匀的breaths.
I reach for the long, thin fingers that are lying on the chest. They are ice cold, and I quickly move tothe wrist and feel for the faint微弱的pulse脉搏. Mrs. Clark's eyes open somewhat as her head turns toward meslightly轻微地. I bend close to her and scarcely几乎不hear as she whispers低语，耳语, "Water." Taking a glass of water fromthe table, I put my finger over the end of the straw and allow a few drops of the cool moisture to slideinto her mouth and ease her thirst. She makes no attempt to swallow; there is just not enough strength.
"More," the dry voice says, and we repeat the procedure. This time she does manage to swallow someliquid and weakly says, "Thank, you."She is too weak for conver sat ion, so without asking, I go about providing for her needs. Picking herup in my arms like a child, I turn her on her side. Naked, except for a light hospital gown, she is so verysmall and light that she seems like a victim of some terrible famine. I remove the lid from a jar of skincream and put some on the palm of my hand. Carefully, to avoid injuring her, I rub cream into theyellow skin, which rolls freely over the bones, feeling perfectly the outline of each bone in the back.
Placing a pillow between her legs, I notice that these too are ice cold, and not until I run my hand upover her knees do I feel any of the life-giving warmth of blood. When I am finished, I pull a chair up beside the bed to face her and, taking her free hand betweenmine, again notice the long, thin fingers. Graceful. I wonder briefly if she has any family, and then I seethat there are neither flowers, nor pictures of
rainbows and butterflies drawn by children, nor cards.
There is no hint in the room anywhere that this is a person who is loved. As though she is a mindreader, Mrs. Clark answers my thoughts and quietly tells me, "I sent ... my family ... home ... tonight ...
didn't want ... them ... to see ..." Having spent her last ounce of strength she cannot go on, but I haveunderstood what she has done. Not knowing what to say, I say nothing. Again she seems to sense mythoughts, "You …stay …"Time seems to stand still. In the total silence, I feel my own pulse quicken and hear my breathing asit begins to match hers, breath for uneven breath. Our eyes meet and somehow,
beings ... Her long fingers curl easily aroundmy hand and I nod my head slowly, smiling. Without words, through yellowed eyes, I receive my thankyou and her eyes slowly close.
Some unknown interval of time passes before her eyes open again, only this time there is no responsein them, just a blank stare. Without warning, her shallow breathing stops, and within a few moments,the faint pulse is also gone. One single tear flows from her left eye, across the cheek and down onto thepillow. I begin to cry quietly. There is a swell of emotion within me for this stranger who so quicklycame into and went from my life. Her suffering is done, yet so is the life. Slowly, still holding her hand, Ibecome aware that I do not mind this emotional
battle, that in fact, it was a privilege she has allowedme, and I would do it again, gladly. Mrs. Clark spared her family an episode that perhaps they were notequipped to handle and instead shared it with me. She had not wanted to have her family see her die,yet she did not want to die alone. No one should die alone, and I am glad I was there for her.
Two days later, I read about Mrs. Clark in the newspaper. She was the mother of seven,grandmother of eighteen, an active member of her church, a leader of volunteer associations in hercommunity, a concert piano player, and a piano teacher for over thirty years.
Yes, they were long and graceful fingers.。