Here's an edited version of the passage:
I Am God's Angel
Five to six AM, an elderly couple waits by the elevator - Ken and his wife Barbara, here for her operation. Barbara says she has to see the doctor to prepare for the eight-hour procedure later that morning.
I call up Joe, the head chef, asking if I can use the elevators this early. For some reason, I feel compelled to put Barbara at ease, though it's Ken who seems more nervous. I crack jokes about my rhinoplasty, claiming I woke up to the hammer breaking my nose again. I imagine that relaxed Barbara a bit.
I tell them to come visit us at The Loft café after, and lunch will be on me - or rather, on my generous boss. As they step into the elevator, I point out a washed-out balloon floating by the window, dawn's early light draining its color.
Now as I write this, I wonder - how did Barbara's operation go? I like to think I was her angel that morning, giving them the blessing they needed before the long day ahead. They'd driven since 4am from the Dandenong Mountains for this state-of-the-art hospital. I shared I was a polio survivor, treated by a doctor who traveled from Melbourne to see me in Ballarat as a child.
The elevator bell rings, I go up to the 7th floor kitchen, they descend into the pre-op ward. All I can do now is hope I brought them some sliver of comfort before the looming procedure. If they visit the café after, I'll know my role, however small, mattered.
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