The gal in the other bed across from mine has been moaning in pain for at least 2 hours now. Always a moan, never quite a scream, sometimes a spontaneous cry, but never quite making it there.
This reminds me of a bizarre thought I have when I hear children crying– I always secretly wish for them to cry absolutely as hard as they can, maybe because I want to punish the parent of this squalling child. I also have a vague feeling that their cry is somehow my own.
I don’t feel this way about the woman across the hospital room though, so maybe it only applies to children. There is something more visceral about a child’s cry.
She is quieting down now, perhaps to finally get to sleep.
I have been here forever, it seems like. She is groaning again.
