The Waiting Room

The plastic chair was unnecessarily cold underneath her that morning. It was a warm enough day, and yet she was uncomfortably cold in the waiting room. Her temperature fit well with the mood of the room: cold. She twirled the ribbon between her fingers as she watched the news, causing the balloon to dance around in mid-air, almost playfully so. The man next to her was chewing gum out loud, but not in an obnoxious way. It was calming, actually, to hear something other than hospital sounds around her. The woman across from him was tapping her foot along to her iPod, and she imagined what she might be listening to. Probably something happy and light - it was a hospital after all, and who wanted to be depressed (more than needed) in a hospital?

Perhaps, she pondered, waiting rooms should be more like a Chuck E. Cheese. They could have ball pits and annoying high pitched music to go along with the kids' screams of delight and parents worryingly calling after their little ones, she mused.

The sound of the receptionist's phone sounding off brought her back to the present, and she looked around to inquire if anyone might have noticed her gazing off. Not that it would be anyone's business, but the woman, like everyone else, liked to know when and if she was being watched. She had been in the cold waiting room for several days now. There was a plush sleeping bag carelessly stuffed under her row of chair and a pillow sat at her feet. She had set up camp in the far corner, an attempt to be out of the way, but at the same time be available, should there be any news.

The almost robotic sound of an wheel chair rolled by and caused her to glance up, almost with anticipation. He wouldn't be in a wheel chair, though. No, that would not be possible.

He had been put in the hospital 7 months ago. On average, about every two weeks, his condition worsened or was in jeopardy, and she would be notified. Without fail, the faithful wife grabbed her over night bag, her sleeping bag already in the car, and drove to the hospital. He sister took care of the animals. She could almost be charged rent at the hospital.

This was the 3rd time this month she had slept in that waiting room. It was still as unfamiliar and strange as the first time she set up camp.

The door to his wing opened and out walked The nurse. Yes, The nurse, The one with The news. She looked reserved, but at the same time The nurse wanted to smile. Not in a positive way, but in the way everyone wants to smile when they're nervous. When they have terrible, heart-wrenching news to tell someone.

Did she want to see him, one last time? No. No that wouldn't be necessary. Did someone need to be called? No, she was right there, wasn't she? Who else would need to be called. The nurse just thought - no, no there's nothing more, thank you.

And just like that, the faithful wife packed her overnight bag for the last time and walked out of the lobby door. She paused for a minute to wonder if she was the only one who pretended to be a Jedi when she walked out of automatically opening doors. Surely not.

The bag was tossed haphazzardly in the direction of the garbage can. It was off by a few feet, someone would need to pick that up.

The interstate loomed in front of her. It looked busy, lots of large trucks going very fast. It was after all, rush hour.

Good, she thought, this won't take long. There's no real point anymore, anyway.