It was time to go home, so Sarifa came to my room in the surgical ward to wheel me down to the car. She and Bev packed our three small bags on to a cart and off our parade went. When we arrived at the hospital entrance and portico, Bev left us to go get the car. Sarifa was quiet. I don’t think she expected a conversation.
“Have you had a busy week,” I asked.
“We’ve had 30 patients leave today, and there are only four people to work this shift.
Each of her responses led us deeper into a conversation.
“I use to work at Parnassus, then they transferred me to this campus.
“Do you like it,” I asked. “Yes I do,” she responded.
“Do you have a long commute?” “No, I live in South San Francisco,” she said.
Then this! “I have two children as well.” I asked, “How old are your children?” “They are 3 and 1.” She smiled.
“And they are miracles. My husband and I tried to have children 12 years before our first was born, even trying IVF. I believe in miracles,” she added.
Bev came with the car about then, and that ended our conversation that started with “have you had a busy day,” and it ended with “I believe in miracles.
If we had time, I wanted to ask if she was a person of faith and the role it played in her belief in miracles.
I think she would have told me.