The suckers made of hard candy mounted on a white cardboard sucker stick and wrapped for sanitary reasons sell for ninety-nine cents a bag at the local drug store.

The veteran made of flesh and blood and and dreams and tears and fears sometimes wonders into and out of the various rooms at the VA hospital where I am a guest much as he is.

I am a little bit afraid of him as I watch him in his nightly search for midnight goodies. He has found my bag of suckers.

He sits in a nearby chair his teeth pulling hard at the wrapping covering the goodness of his sweet find. At first I watch fascinated by his ravenous greed. Then I become slightly disgusted.

I watch as with his teeth he tears the wrapping off the sucker. He is slobbering now; his saliva dripping from his mouth. He has the sucker pushed as far into his mouth so as to choke or otherwise cause himself damage. He is enjoying this treat. I no longer care that he more or less stole it.

Later the ward person fusses at me because the diabetic Vet got into my suckers. "Please hide them from now on." Alas there is no place to hide.

Suddenly I am sent home from the VA, uncured and uninformed. I do not know what my health status is. Not a clue but I do think it strange to be sent home with what was said to be pneumonia.

So at home I stare at my bag of remaining suckers. I do not want them. In my four days in the hosp I never received a bath. I did not observe other vets getting a bath. I did ask for a wet wash rag several times and wiped myself down as well as I could under the conditions.

I take a final look at the bag of suckers. In my mind they are dirty now contaminated with germs and meanness. All the sweetness has been stolen and all the hopes and dreams of the old veteran are gone. I have my daughter throw the suckers out onto the scrap heap of life.

And all the old veteran wanted was a little sugar, a little love. Nothing more.

180