Where does it hurt?

I turn around and go back, setting down my bike.

“Hey guys, I’m a nurse, is everyone ok?”

(She’s not ok, they’re not ok. At a glance I see poverty, my nose senses alcohol.)

“No man, she’s bleeding good and out of it.”

Blood out her nose and mouth, unconscious. I get a pulse on her wrist and never let go of it the whole time. Breathing is shallow but regular.

“Did anyone see what happened?”

“She said someone smashed her.”

(Is this an assault? Is it an accident? Does anyone here or out there care?)

“I think she just fell.”

“Yep, I saw her fall, just blam.” He claps his hands sharply.

“Mam, can you hear me?”

I rub her shoulder, turn her to the recovery position.

“oww oh oh”

“Where does it hurt?”

(Your body? Your heart? Your mind? Your spirit?)

Her hand drifts around, settles on her back and nose, drops back to the ground.

“You guys already called an ambulance?”

“Yep, I think I can hear it now.”

“If you can hear me, can you tell me your name?’

“Tanya”

Bless you Tanya. I hope that some day soon you stop hurting.

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