by Dacia Lewellen
Women in scrubs walk back in forth down the hall as I sit silently in a chair in a plain room covered with balloons that say “get well” and flowers of all different colors.
A woman in blue asks an old man, “Can you open your eyes for me?”
I look, trying not to stare, as she shines a light in his eyes. I take hold of my small petite friend's arm as I walk her down the hall on one of her four walks of the day. I squeeze her arm softly as I hear more nurses come running up behind me to enter the old man’s room.
I listen carefully. “He is not responding,” I hear one nurse say and I look down at the blond holding her up slightly as she leans into me to keep her balance.
I knew that the old man wouldn’t make it. And I prayed that the same result wouldn’t come for my friend walking slowly next to me.