IV Strangers
Originally published on Five Minute Lit.
The clock ticks as my IV drips, interrupted by the whirs of an inflating blood pressure cuff. Scanning the room, I know no one but understand everyone. There’s the white-haired, flannel-clad man who asks about kidney stones and the younger woman whose head tips back as she naps underneath a suspension of tubing. Our bodies fail us. Our sickness brings us here, where we meet as equals under the fluorescent lights and needle pricks. We speak in hushed tones of ifs and whens. “Are you okay?” the nurse inquires. I smile and nod, though I still wonder. Are we okay?
