She thought that breakfast might pick him up, but he prevented her from leaving, grabbing her hand and pulling her down beside him on his bed. “No,” he said, “stay here.”
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“No, I’m not,” he answered. “But I soon will be.”
“Truman, I think I want to call the paramedics,” she said, starting to rise. Once again he held her down, and for the next three and possibly four hours he talked and talked, until he could talk no longer.