A visit

I spent the day in the hospital yesterday, talking to old friends and meeting new ones. Things haven’t changed much since I left; except they’re more gloomy.

“Mem, you’re the only reason why I want to stay here for the next four years. You’re going to grow up and we want to be there.”

I smile, there’s not much I can say. All I can do is grow, grow, grow.

I save my last visit to a ward, one of my friends is there and I sit across from him on a chair. I didn’t know he was there until a little bird flew to me. I went and sat there until he woke up.

“I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“I thought no one would visit me. I didn’t tell anyone I was here.”

“You know, you’re one of my better friends; why wouldn’t I?”

“You are probably the nicest person in the world. You’re my only visitor and I feel as though it’ll stay that way.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why Mem?”

“You’re a good person, you’re patient, you’re kind.”

“Mem, say that and look into the mirror. You’re everything you just described and more. You have no idea.”

 

I always worried that if I ever got hurt and ended up in the hospital no one would visit me. I keep that thought at the back of my mind. I make an effort each time I hear and I call my friends letting them know I have a friend that deserves the very best.

I cried about it once. I was convinced nobody would visit. Until my own visit to the hospital. Each day I’m welcomed with smiles and hugs, and even on the gurney someone was professing how much I meant to him. My heart was breaking and suddenly I was healing.

It took a visit to the hospital, an act of kindness, in order for me to realize that I matter.

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