"Ok people we are going to have to stop, it's been almost an hour and, much though I hate to give up, we can't do anything more here. Let's close and then we'll have to talk to the family"

The surgeon stepped back and let one of his students take over. Looking again at the ravaged face, that was so beautiful when he first saw it, he let's his composure crack for a second. He leans over to her as the student makes all the usual equipment checks and sets up for him to close and whispers a soft "I'm sorry. So very, very sorry"

Then with the surgery over and the patient headed back to recovery he steels himself to deliver the news. How do you possibly tell your godson that all your expertise and talent is useless in the face of this particular case. How can you go out there and say the words. Inform him that you have no idea if his wife will ever wake up and all you know for sure is that, barring a miracle, she will be dead before Christmas.

As he predicted it is less than a month later that the Surgeon is saying the words again. "I'm so sorry. So very, very sorry for your loss". His godson is scarcely recognisable. His face is gaunt and pale with grief, the purple shadows under his eyes so dark they could be bruises. He should be so happy today. Should be out buying presents for his infant son and his childhood sweetheart, should be making love to his beautiful wife every chance he gets while the baby sleeps, should be building the happiest memories of his young life. He shouldn't be burying her today with so many if only's heaped up they could burry him too. Sorry just isn't enough, could never be enough.

The surgeon remembers so well what she said to him before that last surgery and what he promised to do and somehow he finds the will to do it today. "Son" , he adds, "She asked me to tell you something if she didn't make it this last time. I wanted to be sure I got it right so I have it all written down. Here" he offers a folded sheet "it's all right here". He feels the paper slip from his fingers and receives a sharp nod as tears flow from both of them. Later that week he gets a phone call, a simple thank you from someone still grieving but who no longer sounds dead, and he smiles for the first time since that first sorry. Once he hangs up he makes another call and secures a new start. It can't make up for losing her but maybe it will help and maybe, just maybe there is still a chance of a happy ending. .