Don’t cry wolf

There’s a constant background noise in the hospital. It’s like the hiss of cosmic radiation. Nurses chat in the corridor. Televisions in the other bed bays. An old woman who refuses to eat is told off. A trembling bird is too frail to move her table and cries. Confusion. What month is it? Today? Friday. How many fingers am I holding up? Today? Friday. Are you left or right handed? Yes. Monitors bleep. It’s always the machine, never the patient. The buzzers have stopped working again and chime off key and then stop, leaving a gap in the air between the squeal of a bed being lowered and the crash of a plate on the floor. Nurse! Nurse! Don’t cry wolf. What if you call too much and they never come?