My dying son asked the scary biker in the hospital waiting room to hold him instead of me! I am his mother
Hospitals have a way of silencing the world. The fluorescent lights hum incessantly, the machines beep in steady, mechanical rhythm, and the air smells faintly of antiseptic and sorrow. Life feels suspended between hope and heartbreak, and time slows in a way that makes every second feel like an eternity. That’s where I was —…