Pulses blink laser green across expressionless digital panels, reaffirming living life or the dying one quieting down.

The doctors hustle, the nurses bustle, and the handwriting soaked into paper, pulls prescriptions off shelves, spills pills from bulky bottles and sends liquids through lengthy tubes.

Every label checked before administration and every wristband read before release checking and rechecking hoping each and every patient is treated individually although lined up room by room, every illness looks the same.

Pills are popped with a prayer for health and shots injected with a good, stiff wince.

Hands are clenched, white-knuckled in waiting rooms mocking distress, and pacing, and restless characters all hoping for any word of solace.

Care, healing and hell are all found here with walls of white and windows.