It's two o'clock and thirty-six minutes on any given day. I am the only person awake in the room of General Hospital of La Raza. -45 Seats each module in total if no more- chairs consisting of three cold metal are occupied by one or two. From 45-50 dreams. Hopes of being. God Bless You. Lifetime. From 45-50 lives together in a space of time, by an inexorable reality: the hope that someone close to them, just some floors have good health, with the result that we can not help but feel a strange empathy.
I ponder witnessing these days, the pain of dozens of people, including people close to me, because in each day there has been death after death, even when life histories are. Fortunately, many more. But those few deaths they touch one of a brutal, merciless. Over and my life I have visited many hospitals in this great city and even other states of the Mexican Republic, so that these feelings do not cease to be familiar, almost like my day job, with the same level of vigilance, but with a completely different, infernal stress, which is palpable and smells around here. Even I think many people would step on, even for one hour, these sites; compenetrarse in a different context in which they live every day, because really, there are people who have never set foot in a hospital. And here you can learn to appreciate something as precious as life itself. This experience can change a life, not the patient but the family that remains uncertain, the expected wear. The friend who sacrifices a little of your time to someone with whom you share a moment of life. Someone wanted. A life that undoubtedly can grow as a human being as a result of being trapped in the limbo that means staying twenty-four hours struggling in a rational madness, while another person is torn between life and death. For it is in these places sometimes the soul of people shines with greater intensity that can ...
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