the waiting room

The waiting room


There is a strange thing about the waiting room in a hospital. First of all it has no geographical bearing… it just is. It can be anywhere in a hospital. Just as long as there are people waiting in it for the fate of their loved ones.

The second thing is that if you observe the surroundings of the room, wherever it may be, you might learn something new… if you haven’t already.

The waiting room is always full…or to the very least, occupied by people in vain for their loved ones to come out of an operation or worrisome mothers waiting for the verdict of her child’s running nose, this room is always the best or worst place to be, depending on the situation…

This room, can be the most dreaded destination for a doctor bearing the heavy burden of carrying bad news, yet at the same time, it could be the best place for the doctors to be when having tasted the sweet and addictive taste of victory. The taste that leaves the doctor wanting more of it…more victory.

The room itself is unremarkable. Indeed it could be a hallway. Yet what attracts me to this room is the people. And more so, the people and their love for other people who (unlike the waiters) are the ones who were unlucky enough to be carried far behind the swinging doors. The worry, the guilt, the love. This is where everyone put aside their differences and hope together that the one behind the swinging door will survive so that their guilt for having avoided the encounter with the door themselves would be relieved. So that they wont have to spend the remaining of their lives looking back at what they should have done or said to that person or even what they SHOULDN’T have done. That is what haunts the quiet majority of them…the guilt.
The survival.

I have only been to the waiting room once. I’m glad to say that the operation went well. And I didn’t have a close personal relationship with the man who undergo the operation. Nor with his daughter or wife…
But the daughter is my cousin. So I had to be there. And I chose to.
But not for the patient’s sake but for my own, more complicated sake.
I was disappointed. The person I DID want to see wasn’t there… but I DID get a starbucks’ sticker. That did make it lighter…

All in all. My story isn’t one that relates to the dramatic side of the waiting room. But sitting there with my relations and other people who actually had something to worry about. I mean, yes the person I was waiting for was in the operation theatre… but it wasn’t his first…
Cancer is kinda hard to get rid of once you get it.
So I knew I didn’t have that much to worry about. I didn’t worry but those close to him did… but that is only natural…