Waiting room.



Life is full of experiences that resonate with us. Sounds, smells or places that harken back to other events in our lives. Some are happy, some are sad but, they all cue up memories in us. Memories which invariably force us into drawing comparisons of the “today” to the “then.”

Over the last few days, I have had the chance to renew my acquaintance with my old nemesis the ‘hospital waiting room.’ Waiting rooms all have a vaguely similar feel. There’s furniture just this side of comfortable (not the good side), in muted tints attempting to soften the glare of the fluorescent lighting. It’s furniture that’s seen a lot of use, parked in what would amount to a small office and packed tightly together. In one corner they’ll be a TV customarily turned to something you would never find yourself watching at home and only if you’re among the truly fortunate will you be able to change the channel.

Being in a waiting room is somewhat akin to being on a long elevator ride in the way you will be united with a bunch of strangers briefly as you all move towards a similar destination. Momentarily, you will be a part of another person’s life not through choosing as much as coincidence. It’s often uncomfortable bumping up against each other in these moments of brief shared intimacy, the intimacy of strangers. Yet a lot can be learned about people, if only in the kindness we show each other during these moments.

So, as I struggled to quietly read my paper during the sojourn in the waiting room, anticipating the moment I am summoned back into the recesses of the ICU. I sit, an uncomfortable witness to strangers in a moment of fear over the sickness of a loved one. A moment where people have come together united in their concern and sharing amusing stories of the past. I am thankful as they ready themselves to leave, looking forward to the silence and being able to get my mind off the onerous vigil I am on.

Yet as they file by me, I am surprised by a woman I do not know. As the five or six people make their way out of the room and I keep my nose buried in my paper trying not to intrude on their privacy lacking another place to wait, she places her hand on my shoulder as they file past and just says that everything will be alright. It momentarily takes my unease at being trapped in the limbo of the waiting room away and I am reminded of the small courtesies strangers can afford one and other.