we take breakfast in another room away from all the noise. the nurses are concerned about the impact of the unpredictable ambience on our will to do our job and eat. barricade opens we follow the trolley past the nurse’s station down the hall into an office on the left a few doors down. a board room table cushioned black faux leather chairs projector screen and whiteboards. our places at the table are chosen by the nurses. they lay our trays at particular positions, removing each instrument vessel item of food napkin juice box to place before each consumer. trays returned to the trolley timer rightly assuming head of the table. toaster sitting nervous on a chair by the wall. we all seem a little thrown. a new room a closed door the unfamiliar lack of noise. plastic packet sounds and knives in single portion spreads much heavier in silence.
sitting across the table from a nurse we haven’t seen in a while I ask about her week. she has been well and even better now her daughter is on her way home escaping airport closures bombs escalating tensions on a flight out of Dubai. a little relief but still waiting for her son to do the same. I look down at my food my problems my self embarrassed by how I am despite what I know. what would the children in the rubble in the flames hiding under headlines think? I watch the nurse smiling as she waits for us to eat, not knowing when if how her son will come back home. I drink from a straw and remember a world outside much bigger than the ward myself any of our problems.
