Chapter 19: Chapter 19.

This is unreal. The front hospital grounds look nothing like they should. In and out of the front entry, the nurses and doctors go in and out to make their services available to the patients inside and on the outside. There are rows and rows of cots and not a single one is vacant. From both sides of my path to the front doors, there are so many sick people.

They don’t care to notice another person walking toward the hospital, but I sure do notice them. It’s hard to read the staff's half-covered faces and I’m glad I have my mask to shelter the shocked expression on mine.

I untie the cart from the horse and let the tiered animal walk to the waterhole. The mare should have plenty of time to graze while I figure out how I can make myself helpful.

“Nurse? excuse me, nurse?” I approach the closest staff member that would hear me.

Her eyes meet mine, “Oh, good. The food is here.”

“Yes, but there is more. I’ll have to make a second trip to get it all here.”

“Thank the stars. We can use all the food we can get our hands on.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s going on here. What are all these people doing outside?”

“We’re doing the best we can with what we got,” she takes offense.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that this has been going on,” I begin to unload the pull cart.

“What, you’ve been living under a rock for the past few months?” without hesitation, she takes handfuls of the flaky goodness and starts hanging them out to her patients.

“No, I’ve been away at the capital,” I tag along behind her while holding on to the overflowing basket by its handles.

“That explains it. You won’t see anything like this in the cities, because none of the hospitals are equipped or staffed enough to handle this health crisis, so they’ve been transporting the patients that they don’t have room for into the countryside.”

“It looks like you are struggling too.”

“Not as much as the cities would have. Here in the country, we have a vast resource that by nature, the cities do not. We are surrounded by farms and orchids and the owners have been more than willing to donate produce and wheat. Without the constant hustle and bustle of the cities, the folks here have more time to step in and help out. Half of the staff are made of volunteers now.”

“But that's still not enough, is it?” I can’t help but notice the tiresome strain in her voice.

She sighs, “Of course, it’s not enough. We need more medicine, we need more shelter for the patients.”

The clockwork in my head begins to turn.

“I think I might be able to help."

“Isn’t it what you are doing now?” the nurse is perplexed.

“I mean I think I can do more,” I grow even more excited at the possibility.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll have to talk to my parents first. Let’s hurry and pass these lilies out so that I can hurry back. I’ll come back with the answer when I bring the second delivery.”

After we pass out the breakfast, I promise to come back as soon as I can. She giggles at my excitement and with a cautious hope waves bye to me.

“Mother!! Father!!” I yell.

“What's wrong?!” my startled parents rise from the front porch swing.

“This is not enough!” impatience gets the best of me and I start running, leaving the horse and the cart in the middle of the driveway.

“Should I start peeling more?” my Mom turns her head.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” I smile at her.“The lilies and the food donations are not enough. They need more and I think we can help even more.”

“Sure, son. How though?”

“I know that those patients at the hospital are very sick, but we can do more without risking our own health. At the end of the three hundred acres of our orchard, there are a few empty barns.”

“And?” my father presses me to continue on.

“We can use them to house the patients and the hospital staff can run them as they see it fit. The hospital is well overrun and strained. The staff has no choice but to keep hundreds of people outside on the cots. When the rainy season comes, they won’t stand a chance at surviving.”

“Why didn’t we think of that?” my mom looks at her husband.

“I completely forgot we had them. They’re in good condition, but we hardly use them anymore,” my father scratches his head.

“That’s only half of it.”

“What the other half.”

“Our roses. We can donate some of them too.”

“But the blooming season is long over.”

“We’ll just have to give whatever dried pedals we can afford to from the storage. They are full of minerals, antioxidants, and so many other anti-free radicals. The jams and teas that we can make out of them, will give their immune systems a major boost.”

“I think that’s more than possible, we had a very excellent harvest this year and our finances can take at least ten dozen punches worth of rose-filled sacks.”

“Thank you! Thank you to you both! You’ll be doing such kindness!” I press my hands together.

“Go on, then! Tell the hospital staff our offer,” my happy parents shoo me to get moving.

I have good news to deliver indeed and rush to fill the cart with the second serving of lilies to go with them.