Waiting on hope, one name at a time...

Photo by Julia Hankins

Hospitals are seldom happy places to hang out. Especially when there is a loved one involved, waiting infers much strain to the emotions. At the Central Texas Medical Center around 2p.m. on a Labor Day afternoon, few would wish to be waiting inside a hospital waiting room for an infinite amount of time doing nothing and living with insatiable questions and concerns.
As I place myself in this setting, I realize there are appeals to every emotion. Sixteen individuals sit and wait in what would be thought a cold room, however the temperature was quite warm. Amongst a sea of magazines and two televisions, patrons appear to be entranced in their own existence and stare blankly ahead of them. Remnants of long lost patrons are scattered around the room.
The irony of junk food scattered across a hospital waiting room is striking. Visitors sit in a sense of hopeless anticipation as they wait for their names to be called, and it appears that sense of anticipation gives way to dark food obsession as an only means of consolidation.
This experience also appealed to my sense of need. The two receptionists seemed to ignore our presence. There was no finite satisfaction for my needs, only temporary distractions. An adequate amount of sunlight became the only relief to my feelings of despair. It was my only access to enlightenment.
Heightened awareness of otherwise minute and insignificant details haunts everyone, even allowing one specific patron to call notice of another's absence. It was as if this patron envied the relief of their fellow stranger's name having been called and sought their defense. "She is in the restroom," the lady replied.
Experiencing a hospital waiting room on a sunny afternoon left me with mixed emotions, and mostly emptiness. A false sense of security came over me, and this feeling I never wished to feel again. May God be with them.