In two days, I went to two hospitals for two entirely different reasons. Thankfully, there's nothing wrong with me, though I can't as easily say that for others.

I was definitely taken by surprise at the gravity of the situation. I played with my fingers nervously while glancing up at the the sign that read "HDU: High Dependency Unit". Then I saw him.

At the time that I was supposed to be strong, I couldn't hold back my tears. One look at the bandages across his chest, the wires in his arms, those eyes so similar to my father's... I couldn't stop myself, as much as I wanted to. I was desperate for a topic of conversation, but he had turned away from me. I thought I'd hurt his feelings, but I looked up to see him trying to give me a box of tissues. He was trying to console me. It wasn't supposed to be that way. Then he too held a tissue to his eyes, which almost broke me. I wanted so badly to touch him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't speak. I motioned for my sister to give him my parents' regards. I would have given anything for my father to be in my place. After moments of silence, I'd controlled myself enough to tell him my brother was going to visit my parents the next day, which led to me offering to bring my brother to him. That ended our word-deprived conversation. When I salam him goodbye, I fought back a new set of tears at the touch of his cold, cold hands.

I left the room with my heart in my throat. I can't imagine how scared he must have been before the surgery. I wish my parents could have been there instead of me. They would have known what to say...