The average age of the other patients is a hundred and fifty. They’re so old, some of these folks, their bodies so worn down and used up, that sometimes when you peek into their rooms to say hi you can’t even tell if they’re there in their beds or not. They’re nearly completely flat, like paper dolls, with just a tiny fluff of cotton glued at the top for hair. You half expect to see a ghost climb up out of their body, like in a cartoon. One of them likes me to come in and hold her hand. She always offers me a lemon drop from her special tin and says, “Did you come straight off the school bus?”
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