The Stalker in the Waiting Room
Becky Bader Waiting for my sister Janie, who was having surgery on her broken leg, I looked around at the other people in the dull waiting room, a room filled, by the way, with anything but dull-looking people, and wondered what their stories were. Some were alone, and some were with friends or relatives; some looked worried and some looked preoccupied and anxious. Some seemed tired, while others seemed restless and irritable. Only one was smiling – at me, of course – because I was making goofy faces at her. She was maybe five years old. A doll with black curls in a royal blue dress and the cutest dimples in the world! And now her mom seems worried more about me, the potential stalker in the waiting room, than the reason she was there in the first place! Ah! Epiphany! Maybe that was my calling today. To take that mom’s mind off of whatever brought her to the hospital in the first place! Or not. I decided to direct my attention elsewhere and leave that poor mom alone.
What about that lady in grey, all by herself, leaning against the cold glass pane of the mini-blind window? She’s there one minute, and when I look back up from writing about her, she’s gone! Where did she go? Raptured? No, the little kid is still there! But that woman disappeared in a flash. I never saw her leave, but she looked so pained. Oops! Forgive the painful pun. Wonder if I scared her, too. Maybe I’m living up to my calling for today!
What’s the story with the frowning man with the grey mustache, wrinkled brown shirt with two pockets, one tucked in and one sticking out at an odd angle? The same man who is now walking toward me! The very same man who’s now at the coffee pot, directly behind me, where I can’t see him; and if I can’t see him how am I going to write about him? Maybe he realized I was writing about him and he’s coming over to see for himself! Now that would be embarrassing! Okay. So now I’m paranoid, but for crying out loud, I’m going to have to stop writing if he keeps standing there! Yikes! Is he going to demand I stop? Demand that I erase what I’ve written? Turn me in? To whom? Is there a law about writing about people who are waiting in a hospital? Will I be known as the stalker in the hospital waiting room? Going to stop now just in case. For a little while anyway. But I can’t completely stop for now I’m obsessed with wondering about these people waiting in this dreary room. All ages and races. Different heights and sizes. And all types of haircuts and colors. Who are they? What are their stories? Why are they here? Surgery? Physical therapy? Are they getting good news? Bad news? Are their lives being changed forever today? And where will they go when they leave? What will happen to them then? All of them are passing through my life at this one particular moment and chances are I’ll never see any of them again. But if I did, would I recognize them? Would they recognize me? Am I looking closely enough at them? Am I looking too closely? I’m the stalker in the waiting room who simply wanted to pass the time while waiting for my sister’s surgery to be over, and then I found myself intrigued by the people who inhabited the same space as me at this one moment in my life, an exact moment that will never happen again. Not with these same people and in this same situation. What does this one moment in my life really mean? Am I a lover of books who sees a mystery behind every face? Am I a woman whose imagination runs on overtime? Or am I a writer who needs to stop writing this rambling nonsense before the coffee pot man really does read this and…..who knows what he’ll do? I thanked God today for breathing. That was my daily thank-you note to my creator. I started reading the story about the lawyer who wrote a thank you note every day for a year, and I decided to write mine every day to God. My note for the day was thanking God for the incredible, complex, amazing process that allows me to breath. Thanking him for another day to be breathing on the earth he created. But now I’ve added to my thank-you note, also thanking God for the amazing people in this room and asking him to bless their lives. And hopefully I provided at least a little comic relief for some of them. Or maybe helped direct their attention elsewhere like the mom worried about her daughter. Maybe this experience will even save her daughter’s life one day for she might lecture her daughter on strangers! But it’s time now to stop my rambling. My sister’s surgery was successful. She was certainly worth the wait!
Reader Comments (2)
Just had to leave a comment and tell you that your stalker in the waiting room cracked me up. Love it! LOL
Selma Lockaby
All American Auto Transport
l0l! Thanks, Selma! Sometimes comic relief is necessary even in waiting rooms! Appreciate your comment. Have a good day.