Perspective
As she rolled into the waiting room I recognized the wheels right away. The curve in the metal tubing was almost identical. Although larger and purple, it was most certainly the same wheelchair as Dermot's. I felt a strange kinship with the owner of this chair and I hadn't even looked up yet. She had to be about 12 years old, her body was stiff, limbs twisted, her face quite gaunt. Her medium length blond hair was pulled back and looked as though it hadn't had a proper washing in weeks. I was set aback. Feeling quite awkward, I tried to make eye contact with the girl's mom. Eager to give her a knowing smile to let her know that I know what she's going through. I did not succeed with my eye contact so I resumed my focus on Dermot while we continued our never ending wait in the doctor's lobby. I couldn't help sneaking glances of this severely disabled girl. A respirator hose protruded from her throat, I could see the machine that was breathing for her care...