The first visit to a hospital that I remember is when my mom got admitted for her asthma attacks. My Mamu came to Lahore from Waah Cant and we went to see Amma.
The hospital was spic and span, white tiles mopped so that they shone like the soles of Italian Leather shoes, walls covered with a beautiful Sea Green wallpaper, her room had a twin bed for visitors, attached bathroom, mini fridge stocked with Chocolates and drinks, and a fully functional TV with a box of DVDs with it.
She was in there for a week or so. While she was sick and we in the hospital for long periods of time, after we getting bored of the room, we took to the outside hallways. That started the skidding races, driving our remote control cars in all the nook and crannies of that floor and emptying the Mini Fridge.
The second time I remember was when my youngest brother was born. The location this time was KSA. A different country. A different city. Yet the hospital was spectacular.
Its appearance made you forget that people died there.
Today, I went to another hospital. And I saw the most striking paintings ever.
|Just look at how awesome this painting is.
You would never know the pain and diseases people suffer and come here to get better from.
In Bloodlines by Richelle Mead, there is a thing called “Glamour”. Its this idea that everything related with Vampires and magic is over shadowed or concealed so that when an ordinary human looks at that thing, the glamour will appear to be something good rather than the real that it is.
And I thought, what a “Glamour” these hospitals put up. That you forget what you were doing there.
For a moment you don’t remember that you were going to sleep hungry, your gum bleeding in school, missing Soccer tryouts and fighting with an elder kid in school.
What your memory recalls is watching a complete season of Full House and ordering Pizza four nights in a row.
But that is all it is. Glamour.
You go back to getting stitches or figuring out how to pay the hospital bills.