the hospital floor

I've been here before, staring at a hospital floor listening to a little boy sleep. This boy is a big little boy. 28 years old with two little boys of his own... The floor I remember was dirty and there were 5 other kids in the room with that little boy,Manuel was his name. Tonight the floor is clean and the patient is sleeping alone. It was quiet then, and it is quiet now, I had tears then and I have tears now. Manuel had no parents... my patient has parents. Parents that ask me "Suzy is he going to live" "Suzy how long until we know if he will die". What do I say? Yes, most likely he will die, your little boy? No. Insteady I tell them that he is a fighter, that if anyone will make it, it will be their son. I've said these words dozens of times before to many tired parents. Never really believing them. I hate that I can't believe them. I hate that they never seem to be true. I hate feeling what I felt in Ecuador four years ago... heartbroken and heavy.However, I love that death is not the end. I love that I know there is a purpose behind all things,I love that time goes on, that people heal eventually, I love that because of my savior there can be hope in many hospitals, hope given to many people staring at the floors.