Wrocław, December 2020
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Sorting. A. was lying on the couch in front of the TV, when she
had to give up this sweet numbness, although she didn’t truly want to do so. The reason? The constant - health related- concerns coming from her husband. His heart was aching and it felt as the pain was reflected on his back. These things are not to be ignored. His scary look didn’t give space for alternatives. There was only one way for the right thing to be done and this was the visit to the Hospital. Both were dressed within five minutes’ time and already out of the door looking for a cab. No one was walking outside. Empty streets, not enough light. Some voices distinguished from the taxi parking area. It felt relieving. -Where to? -To the Hospital. It didn’t take them long to get there. This way (guidelines). Yellow light and a security guard. Deadness. Deadness, this light and the first chilly nights after summer. A little further something was standing out. Yes, the entrance and people waiting, actually many people waiting, and it felt like the procedure was going to take too long. But no. The procedure was simple and quick. A hand showed towards the illuminated sign “Sorting”. A. pushed her husband slightly towards there. She took a seat in one of the front rows. He came back after a while, announcing her that he had to undergo further tests. “It’s okay, I will wait right here”. She looked at her husband as he was walking to a corridor and then she lost him from her sight. She looked ahead. Now at the Sorting area a young woman was lifting her shirt to reveal something that A. diagnosed as herpes zoster. (But why these youngsters are constantly stressed, she wondered). Behind the girl, a man was waiting. He was slightly bent and the pain was shown all over his face. Stomachache. For unknown reasons. His keys fell off. Exhalation. He picked them up. The curtain behind the Sorting was now closed.
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There were some stretchers around. There was unease. (Keep calm). Some attempts from humor came naturally from the staff. Distance. The feeling was familiar. Like‌ -We are done now. Phew. Everything is fine with me. Let’s go home. A., lying on the couch, was desperately seeking something to catch her attention. Her husband had already slept. Last night, with the doctors and all, had proven for him rather exhausting. She blocked one though from her mind. It insisted. With an adrenaline rush, she allowed her though to become an act. She shut the door behind her. She walked down the empty street. -Where to? -To the Hospital.
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