My Life as an African Gypsy

I walk down the hallway and before each room I find myself holding a breath, just a second, but it happens. My mind races with the questions,"Has anyone died? Will she still be there? Who is on treatment? Is it a rough day?"

I had a few extra minutes after my visit to Dermatology, so I figured I'd pop over an see my friends at Oncology. My sweet partner, Alice, greeted me and updated me on our friends. One in particular was doing quite poorly. We had seen her health declining, but this week did seem worse. A few days prior her face had become swollen, and this day I was told her breathing had become labored. I decided I'd go in and sit with her a few minutes before I had to head home to my Anaya girl.

Before going inside, I sat on the lawn and chatted with a few ladies, one who had gone to the trouble to write me her recipe for fish and greens, since I had been whining that I don't know what to do with fish.

It was only a few minutes.

I was heading inside...

It was too late.

A woman solemnly approached with the news. She just died.

She had been lying alone in that bed, no one with her. Maybe she was unaware of her surroundings. Maybe the Lord was merciful and granted peace of mind... But what if she did know, know she was alone? What if she was scared?

I hate it.

I realize I cannot possibly be there for each one. I realize it is impossible to know and time when a person is going to pass on... sigh. I don't know. There may not be a good solution, but I hate it. I hate that it happens everyday.

Lord, you know I am willing, use me.