There are few places in my world that are as heart-breaking to visit as Doernbecher Children's Hospital.
A young boy I know is today, this fine day in August, in a hospital bed recovering from surgery. Last night, I went to visit him. As I negotiated the maze of buildings, sky bridges and towers that together comprise Oregon Health Sciences University, I encountered many drawn and haggard faces in the halls, in the lobbies, at the windows that look out over the terrestrial galaxy formed by the lights of the city below.
A message scrawled with permanent blue ink on the inside of an elevator door caught my eye. It read:
"They won't let me see you. I hope you know I love you."
Tough read. Tough place.
It is futile to seek answers in a such a place.
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