Overheard on the way to Grand Central

I'm riding the 7:35 Saturday morning on my way to Brooklyn.  Surrounded by a gaggle of girlfriends, nurses, I think, on their way to Manhattan to play.  Talking about work, life, sick parents.  One describes her father's last days in a hospice and how, after one visit, she greeted an acquaintance, another patient.  Have a nice weeked, she told him, or words to that effect.  And he says:

So little time.
So much pain.