I sit in the swirl,
the hum and the buzz of humanity,
hospital walls pulsing like arteries,
beating with stories, lives, fears, and hope.
Doctors glide like generals,
commanding the space with clipped precision,
white coats billowing banners of authority.
Nurses move quick, steady.
Steel in their spines, grace in their hands.
This is their battlefield.
Old couples sit outside the doctor’s door,
weathered hands folded over trembling knees,
a quiet patience wrapped in decades of love.
Whispers and soft smiles exchange
like a language only they know,
waiting for news,
but mostly waiting for each other.
To my left,
a large man un a blue shirt sits by the bariatric unit,
hope flickering in his eyes
like a candle fighting against the wind.
His chest rises heavy,
a rhythm of effort and belief that
today might be the first step.
He grips the armrest like it’s an anchor.
An emergency cart screams by,
all blaring sirens and pounding feet,
a flash of urgency slicing through time.
Faces blur. Is it fear? determination?
No one stops to ask. There’s no time.
And then she appears,
a nurse, fruendly and warm, with lines etched deep in her face,
creases that hold the weight of the world
and the warmth of a thousand thank-yous.
She calls my name, her voice a balm,
a ribbon of calm cutting through my nerves.
Her eyes tell me,
“I’ve seen it all,
and you’ll be okay.”
Her hands, strong and steady,
are love in action.
I walk behind her,
into this tapestry of lives intertwined.
My stomach clenches, not just with fear,
but with something else…
hope,
gratitude.
Thank God for this place.
For the steady hands amidst the chaos,
for the people who keep showing up, day after day, sleepless night after sleepless night.
Where would we be without these people?
The doctors with minds sharp as scalpels,
the nurses with hearts strong as steel.
Where would we be without their rush,
their steady hands in the storm,
their mix of skill and care,
of healing and hope?
Who else holds us when we are too afraid to hold ourselves?
Who else walks into the fire
just to pull us back?
Where would we be
without these people who show up,
every day,
with love stitched into their scrubs,
and courage pumping through their veins?
I sit in the waiting room,
but I am not just waiting.
I am seeing,
breathing,
believing.
The Waiting has come to an end.