My dear father, in hospital and near the end of his brave battle fighting eusophageal/stomach cancer, asked me to take him "home to die in peace". This was back in the day when chemotherapy was in its infancy, and it was a hit or miss treatment at best. His wishes were against the hospital policy, and his doctor's parting shot hissed at me as we left was, "he's going to die, you know"... Had he not listened to one word we spoke? My father spent an entire day at home filled with visitors, singing, laughing, gifts of food and flowers. He passed peacefully away the following day.
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