I’m at AZ Sint-Lucas today for an ultrasound … a possible hernia.

Here I sit, watching humanity walk by.  You see the young man with a backpack.  He scans the parking lot.  He holds a plastic bag full of medicines.  He checks his phone a lot.  I don’t know his story, but I bet large parts of it are my story too.

He just stood up.  He walks towards the revolving door with a huge limp.  His face is turned away so I can’t see the pain.

In the photo, you may be able to see two people passing each other – a woman pushing someone in a white wheelchair and a young man using a walker.  When the legs don’t work well, we need help.  I wonder what it’s like for the fellow.  Perhaps he’s used to playing sports … and then one day a doctor says “This is your walker.”

Here comes an elderly woman wearing a red coat and a white scarf in a sea of black.  It’s the colour of Santa’s suit.  I wonder if she’s Mrs. Claus in her family … or maybe even the big guy herself.

Heads are adorned: Covid masks, hajibs, ball caps, berets.  The world is here – being sick or caring for someone who is.

Some people hurry, some people shuffle.  Some hold the arm of a loved one.  Many are alone.

To my left is a restaurant.  Lots of folks inside.  I remember being a patient, and how comforting the warm food was, the sweet dessert, in the times when woe was me.  Today I won’t be eating for awhile longer.

A young woman dressed in blue and red stares out the window.  I can’t tell what’s in her eyes.  And from my angle I can’t see what she holds to her chest.  An infant?  A dog?  A full plastic bag?  And then a wee human foot jiggles.

Some walk by holding coffee cups.  Many are grasping little rectangles of paper that show their destinations.  Purses, of course.  And a broom wielded by a woman wearing a pale blue top.

The reception desk is just past the Christmas tree.  A woman stands behind it, turning as folks come by.  My eyes can’t tell but I sense she’s smiling at people.  “Welcome.”

Yes, that’s the feeling I get

Welcome