Hospital and The Unknown

I hate hospitals. The government funded ones and also the private ones with them gleaming polished linoleum floors and expensive sofas in the lounge.

No. I think I hate seeing people being sick more. And I hate knowing the sick person is eventually going to die.

I was at the hospital this evening.

And as I sat there watching them sitting around in the room, no one speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall and an occasional cough were the only sounds in the room. We're on the critical unit floor.

Outside, in the hall, the sound of shoes clicking, thumping and squeaking on the polished floor and muffled conversations could be heard. The beep beeping of equipments from the intensive care rooms further amplifies the sombre mood.

Our small group was in limbo. I can feel how they feel. It is as if you're not a part of the living and yet, not dead. Waiting for the news to come in was brutal. Flashback from the days I spent with my now departed aunt while at the same hospital months ago suddenly overwhelms me.

And now this.

Each nurse and doctor that came towards the plate glass and then walks pass made their blood rush and trickle as they went by. The same questions is in everyone’s head. The what-ifs, maybes, if onlys. The ultimate question of mortality, and the accounting for their own lives.

Then she walked in. She paused at the door way and managed a smile. The nurse's face gave no clue as she beckoned them to follow her down the hallway. The squeak of her shoes set a cadence as they marched behind her.

To face the unknown.