This was written by a Metro Denver Hospice Physician: True Story!
I was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in
traffic on Colorado Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and
die – I barely managed to coast , cursing, into a gas station, glad only
that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot
to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn't even turn over. Before I could
make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the quickie mart building,
and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a gas pump, so
I got out to see if she was okay.
When I got there, it looked more like
she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young
woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She
dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her.
It was a nickel.
At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman,
the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back
(1-in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95.
I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept
saying 'I don't want my kids to see me crying! ,' so we stood on the
other side of the pump from her car.
She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now.