the egg sandwich incident He never wanted me to leave him alone while we were in the hospital. I remember he was scared to go to sleep because he was afraid he wouldn’t wake up again. He really didn’t want to die. He said that if he had to he knew he’d be alright – he knew he was saved and going to heaven – but he wanted to live. He wanted me to come check on him every hour, but they wouldn’t let me in the ICU every hour. So I would wait in the waiting room and get on my hands and knees and crawl past the entrance back to his room, then back to his bed. I’d say, “Are you alright?” He’d say, “Yeah, I’m alright.” Then I’d crawl back out again. It’s a wonder they didn’t throw me out of that hospital. One night, I was pushing him to eat something – anything – as I always did. He didn’t have any appetite and he was losing so much weight. I’d get on my knees and beg him and beg him to eat. He’d say, “Betty, I just can’t eat.” On this night, for the first time, he requested something to eat. He told me, “I believe if I had an egg sandwich I could eat it.” So I went down to the little cafeteria area to get my husband an egg sandwich. But when I got there they’d already shut down the grill and were closing up. I said, “Please make me an egg sandwich for my husband.” They said, “Sorry, we’re closed already.” I said, “I want an egg sandwich and I want it NOW! Either
you’re going to make it for me right this second or I’m going to come across this counter and make it myself!” The gentleman turned on the grill and made me an egg sandwich. I got the sandwich, took it up there to John, and he took one bite of it. That’s all he wanted. I said to myself, ok.