A recent health challenge landed me in the radiology department waiting room at a nearby hospital. Time seemed to go by in slow motion as I sat alone and watched a blurry television pointing down at me from its perch between the wall and ceiling. But then some excitement wheeled into the picture.
A neo-natal intensive care nurse arrived with a tiny baby no larger than my foot, and I don't have big feet. As the two of them waited for a procedure room to open, the nurse kept one hand in a glove built into the side of the enclosed crib, and it looked like they were holding hands. The only sound, other than the television, came from the equipment supporting the baby's breathing and other vital functions. I asked the nurse, "Is the little guy going to be okay?"
"We're doing all we can," she replied. "And I can see that he's got a lot of life in him—I bet he's going to be fine."
Then they wheeled the baby into an exam room, with the nurse still walking beside the crib with her hand thrust ...1