The man heaved a shudder of a breath then sighed and settled once more. I stroked a strand of his grey hair from his face, adjusted the tube feeding oxygen through to his nose, checked his drip and looked down at my watch hanging on my chest.
1:27pm. My shift was about to end. I exited the bay and headed toward the nurses station. I looked down the ward at a woman walking towards me. She looked harassed and lost. Her reddish hair appeared to be escaping from its lopsided restraints. It was cold out and her clothes were a mish-mash of layers.
She walked to me looking about her, frightened and upset.
"I'm here to see my dad I had a phone call" she said her voice trembling.
"Are you Mr Peterson's daughter?" I asked knowing the answer, but checking just to be sure.
"Yes." She nodded, her eyes began to well up, "Is he
She began to dither. I put my hand on her arm and smiled reassuringly.
"He's still here." She breathed a sigh of relief. However, I had to be honest with her. "