Once a day I open YouTube to watch a hospital Honor Walk, in which someone several decades short of their rightful four score and several years is wheeled out of a hospital room to an operating table where his/her/their organs will be harvested to give longer life to another human being.
The floor is often damp with tears. The hallway echoes with the choked sobs of dozens.
And as I watch the hospital bed being wheeled through a hallway whose walls are lined with family, friends, nurses, doctors, et al., I really don’t care if they are Trump supporters, QAnon, members of the American Civil Liberties Union, Amnesty International, 1% or 98%. Rather, they/we are all one in our humanity, in our heartbreak at young lives cut short by disease or accidents or whatever.
We all grieve and weep and celebrate this shortened life. We trust that those people dressed in gloves and masks and other surgical gear will soon be engaged in another example of the miracle of modern medicine.
And then, for a few minutes or hours, depending on when and how the news attacks me again, I am much less angry, and I feel a little more hopeful for my family, my friends, my nation, our democracy.
People are also reading…
Michael T. Coolen