For 73 years — through wars in Europe and Asia and civil rights battles at home, through the assassination of a president and the rise of rock-and-roll — they shared a bed.
He’d be gone sometimes, flying missions during World War II and the Korean and Vietnam wars, but he always came back to her.
So now, as he lies in a hospital bed unable to say or do much, she lies beside him.
Like many hospitals, Fort Belvoir Community Hospital, where retired Army Col. George Morris, 94, is receiving end-of-life care, allows family members to sleep in a patient’s room on a foldout couch. But for George’s wife, Eloise, 91, a cancer survivor who has suffered two broken hips and a broken shoulder, that would be hard.
So the hospital made a special exception when they admitted him this month: They admitted her as a patient, too — a “compassionate admission,” their doctor calls it.
After a 73-year union, ailing couple finds two hospital beds pushed together offer the best comfort
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