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Hospitals can be a great place to define, refine, and redefine one’s own
relationship to personal and collective suffering. “This job is overwhelming.
People suffer so much,” a hospital security guard confided in me one
evening. Walking through the hallways, I witnessed profound moments of
grief and tenderness: an older man clutching his young daughter, two burly
men with tattoos crying together, families receiving heartbreaking news.
And then, one fine day, I found myself in their shoes—tearing inexplicably
as I paced the hallways. Through it all, I managed to crack a little smile,
knowing that someone somewhere, in the sea of hearts walking by, must be
beaming me the same kind of invisible prayer I had sent to others in the
ethers of life’s inner-net. I felt held.
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