Time inside a hospital moves in rhythms that have only a vague resemblence with the outside world. Hours stretch into days, yet days can pass in what fees like hours.

Limbo.

You sit with your loved one waiting. Waiting for a doctor to come sometime during the day to tell you the latest news. Waiting for a nurse to do her rounds. Waiting for the next meal to be come.

You don’t know what time anything happens, just that it will probably happen sometime. If you get up to go do something else, then what you were waiting on will almost certainly happen while you’re gone.

Especially if you’re waiting on the latest updates from one of your loved one’s doctors.

So you stay. Just to make sure. And, time stretches on.