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| Photo by Asyah Saif |
“Help!” she shouts out, but nobody comes. “Help!” she shouts again… and again and again.
If you think she is alone or that there is no one to help her, you are mistaken. There are many. There are many around, many of those who can help… many of those who also need help. All the nurses are busy with other patients. All the nurses are busy with medication. All the nurses are busy looking at schedules, at charts. They are talking—only of important matters, of course. They are reading… also of important matters. And if they are not doing any of that… they are busy walking around the hallways. Everyone is busy, and that is why they don’t answer her calls.
Or maybe they are just afraid to tell her that there is nothing that can be done… maybe they’re afraid of not being able to answer her call for help when they are standing right there.
Is she hurt? Well, she is in pain. I would say so. Yes, she is hurt, but there is no wound. But then again… there could be.
“Why do I feel so terrible?” she asks me.
“I don’t know, Molly… I don’t know.”
“What can I do? I want to make it stop.”
“You’ll just have to wait. That’s all you can do. Wait and be strong… for a little longer.”
“Is there any use?”
“…I don’t know.”
And I, too, sometimes call the nurses. They find it easier to deal with me. After all, I am just a companion. It is easier for them to tell me that the pain will continue. It is easier for them to lie to me, saying that it will stop with time. And then I turn to Molly, her eyes wet with despair, and shake my head.
“We’ll just have to wait… and then, maybe, the pain will stop.”
“Okay,” she says. She puts her head back, closes her eyes, relaxes.
And soon, when I would have left already, she will be calling for help again.
