May 30, 2010

• Another Day in the Waiting Room

  I took my dad for another of his medical appointments.  The wait was excruciatingly long.  I gave myself lots of time and got there almost an hour earlier than the appointment.  It would be another hour and 15 minutes past the appointed time before the doctor saw him.  Waiting rooms in hospitals are usually overflowing with people and emotions. 

  While it made for fascinating people watching, my primary goal was simply to keep my dad, who is not a patient man, calm.  I noticed another Chinese guy, probably around my age and accompanying his dad.  He had a laptop with him.  He looked like he was taking notes in between appointments.  Every so often, he would chat with his father and point to a few things on his laptop.  Another couple was very anxious, the stress in the woman's voice was noticeable.  She was waiting for her brother to show up by ambulance.  I could hear the front desk letting them know her brother is on the way.  I overheard a woman checking when her chemo will start.  There's no privacy here - everyone understands this.

  A gentleman, in his sixties, came out of the examination rooms and made his way to a waiting friend who was sitting beside us.  They speak in hush tones about the upcoming treatments.  Another woman also came out.   Her doctor came out shortly to chat.  She can't resume her medication until she's stronger.   A small child runs around exuding innocence and playfulness.  She gets a few smiles but is mostly ignored.  She stares at some of the patients in wheelchair who don't react at all to her.  She's just another bit player in this theater.  One doctor came out to talk to her patient in mandarin. Her tone seemed a bit off but the patient seemed to understand her. 

  Dad, ever the impatient person, railed against hospital bureaucracy and inefficiencies during this long wait.  He's probably wondering why I'm so patient and understanding.  But I have to be his foil today.  I'll adjust to his character.  Will he be angry, nervous or indifferent today?  My role is determined by his behaviour.  We eventually exit stage left from this theater.  I gently hold on to him while he slowly punctuates his steps with his cane. 

  There's no applause, no acknowledgment of our contributions to today's drama.  As we leave, there's another batch of new patients coming in.   I hope at least one of them will smile when they leave. 

  • 4:36 PM
  • 18 Comments