The hospital ran tests on Taylor for three more days. Her husband Adam was at her side the entire time, with worry.

The doctor entered her room, emotions masked with a blank look on his face. He spoke,’ Mrs. Winehouse, I’m afraid the news isn’t good”, he paused, ” You have a brain aneurism. It’s inoperable.”

Taylor looked at Adam, who was trying successfully to suppress tears.
Taylor stayed in bed all week, Adam had to work but called as often as time at work allowed. Trump was understanding of their situation.

No time frame was given. The song ‘Live Like You Were Dying’ ran through her mind.

She decided after the eight day laying in bed, feeling sorry for herself, that she would paint away the melancholy.

Canvas set up, paints mixed, she put brush to canvas and images flashed before her, and her hands as if by some other worldly magic, were painting scenes so mesmerizingly beautiful of some Utopian Xanadu, colors that seemed not to be in her palate appeared.