This is the hospital calling, what is your plan?

One year ago, my mother was rushed to the hospital after collapsing in her apartment where she lived alone. I was told she'd had a stroke and was comatose, her situation critical. Touch and go, her 66-year-old body was also wracked by pneumonia and years of chain smoking.

My mom and I are not close. In fact, when my brother called to alert me to her health crisis, she and I had not talked in nearly ten years.

I did not rush to intensive care to be by her side.

Instead, I deferred to other family members, ones with whom she was still speaking. They sat vigil and kept watch on her failing health. They updated me regularly.

I wasn't brought directly into the situation until end-of-life decisions needed to be made, the responsibility of being one of two children, her next of kin.