#myconversation

He stood at the foot of her hospital bed, looking down at the little gray woman who was ensconced in the middle. The bed was propped up to support her in a sitting position, but it towered over her, proving more ominous than helpful. Her clothing was huge, as though she were wearing her dad's shirt. He listened politely as she spoke, telling about her medical troubles. Cancer, damaged organs, transplants. He wondered how long she had been in the hospital. She didn't offer up that information. 

He helped the doctor unplug her oxygen from the wall-mounted unit and plug it back in to the mobile tank. It was easy, transferring her to the wheelchair. She weighed very little, and felt fragile in his hands. She didn't speak as they wheeled her down the hallway to the gymnasium, and her breaths came in tiny gasps, assisted by the oxygen. The doctor parked her in front of a machine. “"This is designed to help you with your endurance,” he said gently. She nodded quietly and placed both hands on the pedals. The doctor set the timer and she began to slowly crank the machine, pedaling with her hands. 

“I have a meeting I have to be at,” the doctor said. “"I'm going to have you work with another therapist, over there.” He pointed at a young man who was helping to stretch out a patients leg. He scanned the gym. It was full of people, stretching or pedaling bikes, climbing stairs or doing strengthening exercises in wheelchairs. Cheerful music blared from the speakers, and he recognized two of the men he had worked with earlier in the day. They caught his eye and he waved at them.