As I sat on a chair in the hospital room, I thought about the last few days and the events that led us there. My dad finally falling asleep and I leaned back into the arm chair keeping watch by his side. I had dozed off for a bit but was woken by the grunt of the lady on the next bed. She was in so much pain and had been in pain since we had got there. I stand up and go find a nurse to come see to her. There are nurses everywhere. Running up and down the corridor. I call out to one and say, "The lady in my dad's room is in pain. Please come check on her" She seems to be in haste. Unsurprisingly, for where we are . She replies, "what room is that?" I tell her the room number and she tells me she will be there shortly. I go back to the room and she doesn't seem to have improved. Her grunts are louder. I tell her a nurse will come and she smiles faintly in thanks.

I lean back on the chair again, knowing I won't be falling asleep soon. I notice the wall painting in the room for the very first time. I thought it was grey or I had not noticed at all but it really was blue. It's hard to notice things when your sole focus for being in a hospital is one thing. I look at the wall clock to check if it was time for my younger brother to come take watch while I go home.

The lady on the next bed grunts again, turning from side to side and I realise it's been more than twenty minutes and no nurse had come. I stand up again and head to the nurse station out front. I meet a group of nurses seated. " The lady in my dad's room is still in pain and she still needs a nurse. I called a nurse earlier and she is still unattended to". A nurse stands up and asks " what room is that?". I tell her and she says a nurse will come. I head to my dad's room again. About fifteen minutes later, a  nurse comes and she is given an injection. Relief for her pain and she drifts into sleep.

Another nurse comes with my dad's medication for the hour. She leans over and notices him sleeping and says " I will come back when he is awake". I stand up pacing the room and the cleaning lady comes in with a bucket and a mop, another room to tick off her list. I head out the door to give her space to get on with her work.

As I make my way out front , I am reminded why I hate hospitals. Someone is screaming out in pain. Another is on a frantic phone call. Too many sad faces. Faces of grief. All faces of people who would rather be somewhere else. I find a spot and sit. I lean back and shut my eyes but a voice jolts me back. She says, " are you alright?" I don't know how long I had sat there because I had not noticed a person sitting next to me or maybe she had joined me but I am not sure. I am surprised at her question. Maybe I had not expected to be asked that. I nod a yes. She moves closer and asks " Who are you here for?" There was a softness in her voice. It was like being in the presence of a friend. I told her I was there for my dad. She reaches out and places her right hand on mine and asks again , "are you alright?" I look at the face before me. This lady I have never met before asking me if I was alright. It didn't feel strange sitting right there. It felt comforting. I look to her and say , " I have had better days" She smiles to me and says " And you will have much better days."

She tells me she was there for her sister who had given birth. To hear that again was comforting. To know that people were there and were celebrating gave a certain comfort. It felt like a worthy consolation for all the horror that had brought the rest of us there.

My brother walks in through the front gate waving at me. I stand up and she says, " Everything is going to be alright. "

I think back about that moment and realise how comforting it was. I had not even asked her name and she didn't know mine . She didn't need to ask a name.

We are often carried away so often by the affairs of this world, by our own lives and it can be hard asking if others are doing alright. We are wary of people, of their intent. Human beings go through different phases of their lives. The good times, the bad times. Community reminds us that we are connected. Sometimes a stranger will remind us that we are not alone.

Weeks later, as I ran errands in town, I notice a young girl of not more than seventeen  on the phone near tears. I walk to her and ask "are you alright?"