Wednesday, 1 September 2010

Theatre of Sunrise and Sunset

It has happened on a few hospital visits now; we park the car, get out with the sun shining and a spring in our steps, eager to see Pickles on the ultrasound or hear her on the monitor, only for everything to be put into a sobering perspective upon seeing a frail looking person (a woman usually) sitting in a wheelchair just outside the main entrance being looked after by a nurse. Sometimes they are accompanied by a cigarette or oxygen tank like stubborn bolts of reality but more often than that you see defeat, wavering in their sad eyes.
I feel pangs of guilt everytime I walk past them. I feel awkward knowing that we are using the hospital for a happy purpose, we are looking toward a new Life while these terminally ill looking people are at the end of theirs, chasing their souls for a shred of comfort. It is a reminder that life ends just as easily as it begins and I am fully aware of the morgue, which is just as much a part of being alive is as the cradle and birthdays are. Both shawl and shroud, equally as welcoming.

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