The Hospital Wait

sitting in the waiting room during the designated “visiting hours” means nothing to the loved one in turmoil--- for while the reality of the person on the bed in the cutting room is more than enough to break down the human psyche, taking one to the most primal edge of sanity, just about to push them over the brink, the fact that the last words spoken to the one now being operated on, could’ve been the last, spirals within & contorts relentlessly any chance of getting a grip of the hour of the day, the day of the week, what month it is, the year, or just what will happen in a few moments--- the self-torture increases with each suited staff member who comes walking around the corner--- one wonders if the doctor in charge will be next & with her/him will come words of refreshing calm where “stable” will be repeated instead of “critical”--- and there are the flashes of times past that bring tears to the eyes & there are moments one remembers of horrible cruelty which make one stare down at their shoes wishing that they themselves were in that room being sliced open, rather than the loved one whom in retrospect, deserved not one iota of the emotions of those moments that tattoo across the heart & mind, never to be forgotten--- a hospital wait’s terrible trials & tribulations taking place inside the loved ones forced to endure the dragging duration for what seems like forever is right up there with the most successful means of interrogation, as the death of a loved one is so much more dramatic for us all than our own demise, the difference being that there isn’t anything to extract from ourselves but a hope that things will be better if our loved one pulls through.