“Where’s the special elevator?” asked a porter wearing navy scrubs and emerging from an ICU room. Behind him another porter leaned against the sheet-wrapped gurney with the remains of a patient. Silence hushed the wide corridor lined with other high-tech rooms inter-spaced with computers, all beaming with protocols for the staff to observe with their patients.

A cleaning woman gave a knowing look and nodded toward the direction he was to take; then gripped her mop in sinewy hands and disappeared around the corner.

My thoughts went to the newly deceased, a woman, I supposed. Not much was left of her body. Presumably, she also left behind years of doctoring in such places as this. And the emptiness of this scene–no family or caregivers, no chaplain around. But perhaps they had already been there and left.

However this woman made her transit, she is ultimately free of the whatevers that had kept her in bondage, perhaps even to her doctors.

I wonder how she now views that last-ditch effort to save her life. I wonder about her astonishment with her new God.

It was Sunday afternoon, in Christian belief, the day of resurrection. I rejoice with her.

 

 

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