HIS LAST WISH

Calling an ambulance, they instructed us to get Jack on the floor.

‘Can you feel a pulse?’ the call operator asked.

Putting them on loudspeaker, Roger quickly felt Jack’s wrist.

‘It’s there, but it’s weak and slow,’ he admitted.

His face dropped.

I couldn’t process it.

‘You need to start doing CPR,’ the operator announced.

Looking up at Roger, I knew I couldn’t do it.

It had to be him.

‘I can’t,’ he gasped.

‘You have to, Roger!’ I sobbed.

Leaning over Jack, he entwined his fingers and began pressing down on his chest. I watched on helplessly.

It was awful.

‘What if I break his ribs?’ Roger cried as he pressed down.

I could see how distressed he was, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Then, after just five minutes, the doorbell