Until This Soul Departs

A Toronto inner-city hospital. January 1960. Well past midnight.There it is, the first shriek. At least the brat sounds healthy. Is that the best I can expect, just that the infant isn't sickly-this red-faced newborn whose prospects appear so bleak?The glacial fluorescent lights in this antiseptic cubicle that passes for a birthing centre allow for no shadows, no respite from their intrusive and impersonal glare.I ought to sympathize with the resident on duty tonight, stuck here again for t...