Proof The Bible Is True

Sunday evening, 7:30 p.m. That’s when I would do it.

 

I sat on the edge of my bed and twisted the cap off my prescription pain medication. Normally one tiny white pill would help ease the pain. Not this time. I emptied the entire bottle into my palm and counted. Thirty-two pills. If I took them all at once, I’d stop breathing, go into cardiac arrest.

 

I wouldn’t need to write a note for those I left behind. Everyone would know why.

 

It was a cruel irony, being a registered nurse with an incurable disease. Tonight I would finally cure it for good.

 

Thirty-two pills. One for each surgery I’d had in my 60 years on earth.

 

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