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"He won't talk to anyone else. He says he needs you."

Paige's throat was so dry she could hardly talk. "I'm off duty," she mumbled. "Can't you get someone…?"

"Dr. Taylor? I'm sorry to disturb you, but one of your patients is insisting on seeing you right away."

"Thanks for coming." His voice was weak and hoarse.

Thirty minutes later, Paige arrived at the hospital. She went directly to John Cronin's room. He was lying in bed, awake. Tubes were protruding from his nostrils and his arms.

"All right," Paige said wearily. "I'm on my way."

Paige sat up straighter. "What's happened?"

"John Cronin."

"I don't know. He refuses to speak with anyone but you."

"Who is it?"

Paige got home at midnight, drained. It had been an exhausting day. There had been no time for lunch, and dinner had consisted of a sandwich between operations. She fell into her bed and was asleep instantly. She was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. Groggily, Paige reached for the instrument and automatically glanced at the bedside clock. It was three in the morning. "H'lo?"

Paige leaned over and took his hand. "John, I can't do that. Let me give you some --"

"It is. I want to leave."

"I want you to talk to me."

Paige sat down in a chair next to the bed. She smiled. "That's all right, John. I had nothing to do, anyway, but sleep. What can I do for you that no one else here at this great big hospital couldn't have done?"

She looked at him and said slowly, "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying. The medication isn't working anymore. I can't stand this pain. I want out."

Paige groaned. "At this hour? I thought it was some kind of emergency."

He interrupted her. "I don't want to go home. I want to leave."

"No. I'm tired, Paige. I want to go wherever it is I'm going, but I don't want to hang around here like this. Not anymore."

She shook her head. "That's impossible. You can't go home now. You couldn't get the kind of treatment --"

"John…"

"How much time do I have left? A few more days? I told you, I'm not good about pain. I'm lying here like a trapped animal, filled with all these goddam tubes. My body is being eaten away inside. This isn't living -- it's dying. For God's sake, help me!"

"Good night, Paige."

Paige sat there watching him, thinking about what she was about to do. She remembered how horrified she had been on her first day of rounds with Dr. Radnor. She's been in a coma for six weeks. Her vital signs are failing. There's nothing more we can do for her. We'll pull the plug this afternoon. Was it wrong to release a fellow human being from his misery?

"I'm begging you…"

Paige knew what she had to do. She had to report John Cronin's request to Dr. Benjamin Wallace. He would pass it on to the Administration Committee. They would assemble a panel of doctors to assess Cronin's condition, and then make a decision. After that, it would have to be approved by…

He was racked by a sudden spasm of pain. When he spoke again, his voice was even weaker. "Help me… please…"

Paige leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Close your eyes and go to sleep."

She looked over at the helpless figure locked in his pain.

She took his hand and held it for a long time. When she spoke, she said, "All right, John. I'll do it."

"Good night, John."

He managed a trace of a smile. "I knew I could count on you."

"Paige… it's my life. Let me do with it as I like."

John Cronin sighed and closed his eyes, a beatific smile on his face.

"I'm sorry to give you bad news, Dr. Taylor. Your patient John Cronin died of cardiac arrest early this morning.

Slowly, as though she were moving under water, Paige rose and walked to a cabinet in the corner, where a bottle of insulin was kept for emergency use. She removed the bottle and stood there, staring at it. Then she uncapped the bottle. She filled a syringe with the insulin and walked back to John Cronin's bedside. There was still time to go back. I'm lying here like a trapped animal… This isn't living -- it's dying. For God's sake, help me!

Paige leaned forward and slowly injected the insulin into the IV attached to Cronin's arm.

Paige drove home and stayed awake the rest of the night, thinking about what she had done.

"Sleep well," Paige whispered. She was unaware that she was sobbing.

At six o'clock in the morning, she received a telephone call from one of the residents at the hospital.

The staff doctor in charge that morning was Dr. Arthur Kane.