The nurse returns with the morphine and injects a small dose into his vein. Within minutes his exhausted eyes shut, and he lies back in his bed. The rattling of his rapid breathing disappears, and a slow ebb and flow of air in and out of his mouth quietly fills the room. I sit silently beside him, keeping vigil, as the nurse goes back to her duties. His breathing stops for a few seconds at a time, and then starts again in rapid, shallow pants. Each time I think he has died, he inhales once more and keeps me bound to his bedside. Finally, his breathing stops.