Christmas in The Hospital

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Everyone was silent and emotionless as we rode through the grey, bitter cold to the hospital to see my grandpa, Joe. The rain droplets streamed down my window as I peered out into the dismal city. I thought that the unpleasant mood would lift once we arrived, and everyone had a chance to stretch his or her legs; however, I was completely wrong. The red, green, and clear Christmas lights that adorned the various trees illuminated the now dark skies, and only seemed to mock the sadness my family was feeling. As I stepped out into the chill of the night, the wind piercing my flesh like sharp knives, I saw a mother, a father, two children, and an older woman crying and clutching each other. I wondered if that would be my family in a few hours. Walking into the hospital left a much different impression. The warmth and happy Christmas music playing softly in the background was ironic because all I felt was cold and distant. With the “Whoosh,” of the enormous sliding doors, I let the aroma of coffee and cleaning supplies overwhelm my senses. The artificial fluorescent lights were enough to blind someone after spending hours in a dark car. The squeak of my converses on the spotless floor seemed to be too loud for the stillness of the hospital. The loud squeak and the blinding fluorescent lighting was all I could think about until I saw the cluttered nurses station. I had files piled upon one another, as well as charts and coffee cups, and various fashion magazines. The big Christmas tree glittering in the corner did nothing for my mood, and I thought about all the false hope hospitals bring to families like mine. As I rounded the corner a small, petite nurse, with short blonde hair adorned with reindeer antlers and bells peeked over the counter and smiled at me with a sense of knowing. I hated that smile. It was as if she felt sorry for me, and that was the

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