What the...

You don rose colored glasses and you see the world in rosy tints, you remove them and you see its bleak reality.

You put back the glasses because you would rather live a lie. 

Humanity.

"I was standing just inside the door of the pavilion. watching as men hauled her out of the stretcher into the waiting bed inside the grimy provincial ambulance that could be her last ride..."

It was not a gloomy day. There was not a sun to be seen but its light filtered through the dense white clouds. The wind picked up just as we were guiding the stretcher out of the pavilion. Squeak, squeak, it was rusty. Grunts heard as they tried carrying her dead weight. Stop. The linens were an obstruction. Continue. They were then removed. She still has her tubes attached to her body. The bag valve mask that no one was pumping was not putting air into her lungs. A woman's loud voice echoes into the suddenly quiet crowd of observers, "Get the tubes out. You must do it yourselves. We are not accountable to that outside these hall" The man looked in confusion. He does not know how. Yet, they have made a choice. A choice as instructed by the sick woman herself. They have to go home. So, he gingerly places his fingers into the plaster that holds the tube in place. Instructions were given by the woman from inside the bounds of the pavilion. Out, it came. Harsh. I could sense not a hint of remorse from their voices. Like a bad drama, the crowd thickened and looked on. They were deathly quiet, though. It was not unlike a funeral, seeing a woman go. Away from the place that should have offered health. 

 There was a bed in the place that seemed to take the worst ones in. This time, it was a diminutive girl who defiantly sits up against the doctor's orders. She was 28 years old. But unlike other 28 year olds, she had a mental illness and her body was built like a child's, she had dwarfism. As if fate could not be more cruel to her, she was also sexually abused by a stranger. Now she is with child. A child she could not have known existed in her belly. She looks around her with discord. She does not like what she is seeing. The cries, the groans, the grimaces. It was not a place of peace. She frequently mutters pleas to get home. Sometimes, her mood hits her and she demands it while clutching at her IV line until it bleeds. She wants out. Now. She could sense the growing sense of unease this place has given her. Morning, night this is all she faces. She wants to go home.