The post-op floor has a habit of stripping away all the non-essentials (Should I sign my daughter up for dance class? I'd really like to re-tile the deck.) Its inhabitants were forced to focus on what's important in life. Some families were joyous and others somber, but everyone there was facing mankind's greatest fear: death, and the avoidance thereof.
I can't stop thinking about the 33-year-old mother with 3 months to live and what her family must be going through.
Anyway. I didn't get much writing done, but perhaps the next project I tackle will be all the richer for it.
Jeez, that was a downer.