Emptiness for as far as the eye can see Montreal, QC November 2018 This photo originally shared on Instagram |
And last I checked, the typical patient here wasn't having a kid, and I doubt the folks here are soup fans, either. This place deals with the other end of life, and the gloom that seemingly defines this barely-lit corridor feels like a signature, physical proof of the sadness that you can almost feel as soon as you walk in past the cracked, faded paint that surrounds the front door.
Time seems to move more slowly, not just in this area where waiting is quite literally what you're supposed to do, but everywhere else, as well. A skeleton staff covers too much floor, too many beds, too many patients. Some of them are wonderful, doing the best they can with what they've got. Others? Not so much.
So nothing happens in the now, or even soon. Patients and visitors alike learn to watch the clock, and debate among themselves when and how to speak up to get the care their accomplished lives should have earned them by default.
And the dark pall that defines this space remains as pervasive now as it was the day we got here. No one ever said getting old was pretty.
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