I sat at the window staring down at the ambulance bay watching all the commotion.
It was 3am in the morning and I couldn’t sleep.
This had become part of my morning routine, to sit staring at the comings and goings of the ambulance bay.
I was staying in the hospital with my Mother who was recovering from a heart attack.
This particular morning the patient looked like a drunken man who had been assaulted.
As they wheeled him face bloodied out of the ambulance, he began growling angrily and had to be restrained by one of the paramedics.
A police car pulled up and out of the backseat climbed two females.
They were distraught, screaming and in tears as they followed the paramedics who wheeled the injured patient into the Emergency Department.
As entertaining as the ambulance bay could be on some mornings, I wanted to go home.
I wanted to take my Mother home.
I looked over at the silhouette of my Mother sleeping, and silently hoped ‘someday’.