Angels on Earth magazine

THE ANSWER

JANUARY 31. I circled the date on my desk calendar at work with a blue felt-tip pen. It was only the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but there was a long wait to see the neurologist and I was lucky to get my husband, Wayne, in to be seen at all. Meanwhile I didn’t want him to overhear me making the appointment.

I drove home from work, praying Wayne would agree to go. From day to day I never knew what kind of mood he would be in. He’d recently retired after a 39-year career at an international tech

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