"Ouch...! It hurts a lot", she cried. From a distance, I sat on a chair and watched her cringe and frown as the needle penetrated the skin. The syringe, and the long, winding plastic tube which flowed from it, immediately dyed blood red.
Hospitals are not merry places. Mum said she felt nauseated as soon as she could smell that particular scent of medicine and disinfecting solution. The smell of sickness, perhaps even of death. Harrowing, the sound of faceless patients coughing, wheezing, holding onto dear life for that much longer.
I looked at their faces, many half hidden behind a breathing mask. But the sorrow, the pain, tears and fears cannot easily be hidden. It shows in their sullen and sunken eyes, in their skin darkened by poisonous chemicals aimed to kill cancerous cells, yet at the same time break and weaken patients and rob them of life. I closed my eyes, and inside wished that these people around me, and so many sick and dying people everywhere, may somehow find some sort of comfort, a little semblance of happiness. Even in suffering.
Two more days of chemo-ordeal begins again.
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