Hospitals are very different after hours. Other than the beeps and moans coming from occasional rooms, there is a silence thicker than the paint on the walls. It isn’t a dormant quiet, it is alive and pulses right through those wandering in places they shouldn’t. It attaches itself to you and in so doing, keeps you glancing over your shoulder, for that feeling you are not alone is very real.
Corridors become
longer than they were in daylight. There
is an absence of purposeful choreography, void of clipboards and charts. Your own footsteps are the only interruption to
the silence, the quiet so heavy it almost requires a gurney, and empty nurse’s
stations stand as motionless as the cadavers in the basement.
1 comment:
I stopped taking that medication that allowed me to see people that were not there! Yikes!!
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