Conversations at the hospital

This week I’ve spent some time with my five-month-old daughter in the lounge outside a hospital’s intensive care unit. It looks like the person we’re here to see will make a full recovery. But hanging out here means rubbing shoulders with other people whose loved ones are not so fortunate.

The default position is to respect other people’s privacy, but some people want to talk. One man hadn’t seen his daughter in years but showed up to visit her when she got hurt. When her employer returned his call, he had some questions for them. For starters: what kind of company are they? What kind of work does she do? I handed him a pencil and a notebook.

When he got off the phone, he thanked me. “I haven’t talked to her in so long,” he said. Now she’s right down the hall, and he can’t.