.
When I first scanned the room, it was as if with selective vision. I saw things, but not the people to which they were attached. The high metal beds, the IV drops, the rasping respirator impacted me. I moved in closer, hoping to overcome my reservations. I walked past a bed with a young man sprawled across it, online leg hanging lip over the side. He was perhaps no older than myself, but his face was startlingly pail, contrasted against the dark skin of his arms. His eyes were closed, ringed with black. In the next bed over, lay a woman who once possessed great beauty, now stolen by the disease. The nurse leaned in, speaking quietly, "She was a prostitute. She had baby girl, but it die of AIDS last week. Very sad." I fought back the urge to cry and Alex muttered something about my nails digging into his palm, but I barely heard him, as I let go of his hand and walked further into the room, the click of my heels against the blackened linoleum resonating through the room. As I reached the back of the room, a man's eye caught my own. He had massive, weeping ulcers covering his face, body and hands, with only patches of tan skin peeking out from between the sores. His appearance alarmed me, but something shined in his eyes, and I edged closer. He reached out a thin, emaciated arm to me, and I took his hand in mine, curving it around his. My original fear melted away as a smile encompassed his face, and I too could not help but smile down at him. "Suwhy," the man whispered, "Suwhy, ma crap." (Beautiful, you are very beautiful) Caught in the moment, I had not even noticed that Alex and the nurse now stood next to me. The nurse spoke to the man for a moment and then turned to me and said, " You do good service. You make him very happy." I looked back into his eyes and stood silent. He would never know the service he had done for me. I was overcome with emotions that I struggled to make sense of. I had never encountered dying in such a real sense before.