Connie's Corner

While I was waiting...

There were lots of other people in the day stay surgery waiting room last Friday morning when Jim went for his cataract removal. Some had gotten there at five in the morning. We came at seven. After Jim went into the surgery unit, I began to notice the different people waiting. One young black girl, maybe not too young but young enough, was curled up in a lounge chair sleeping. Over her for warmth she had a beautiful quilt, wedding ring pattern. I could only see the side of her face. Then her cellphone rang, a tune unfamiliar to my old ears. She jumped up and the quilt slid off the most beautiful long dress I have ever seen, all colors, greens, oranges, blues, brilliant colors. It made me say "aahhh" to myselt, it was so lovely. She talked on her phone a while, then snuggled under the pretty quilt again and went back to sleep.

Next to me a white lady was reading a paperback, I couldn't see the title. She looked up and we got acquainted. She was a just right size, maybe my height around 5'2". I noticed her pretty sandals, very small feet. She had long gray hair secured by a rubber band, ponytail style, at the base of her neck. Her husband, she told me was in for shoulder surgery, They were from Cairo, Georgia, and had spent the night before in a local motel. She was three years past a mastectomy, had been through chemo and radiation. I did not share my melanoma story, I don't know why. Her ankles swelled when she sat up so she tried to lay down on the little settee-like seat and did soon sleep, snoring quietly. Later, she told me she smoked, and went outside for a cigarette, leaving her jacket and bag in my care. I thought about my mom.

Across the way sat a white lady I nicknamed the telephone caretaker because she jumped up to answer the phone everytime it rang. It was a counter phone used to notify us waitees of when our better halves were in recovery. She looked more sophisticated than the rest of us, pants suit, colored hair in a page-boy style, wedgies, and glasses propped on top of her head while she perused the newspaper and drank a Starbucks' coffee.

At eight o'clock the office crew arrived so phone duty was no longer necessary. The older, paunchy, balding white man introduced himself as Eric, available to answer all our questions...and had we gotten a code number? What? A code number we should give to anyone inquiring about our better half in surgery...aaahh. I got mine, although I did not think anyone would be inquiring. A very young black girl assisted him. She was cheerful, talkative and always smiling. Anyone coming in after they arrived, were escorted by one of them to the surgery unit. I had to wheel Jim down there myself. They were nice and said "thank you" and whisked him away before I could barely say "bye".

Several more people straggled in, lost parts of themselves, and settled in to wait. The sports channel was on the tv when I got there and thankfully, Eric changed it to a news channel. I had looked for the remote but he had it hidden under the counter. It was a wall-mounted flat screen too high to reach any controls...must have played all night.

A young man came in and I eavesdropped as he asked Eric where the SICU waiting room was. I have been in this hospital so often, I could qualify as a guide so I offered to show him the way. I needed the exercise. His father was having lung surgery. The walk seemed too short. He thanked me and I continued on down the hall a ways before turning around and heading back.

Soon after I returned, I got my call for Jim and said goodbye to my mastectomy friend, wishing her and her husband well. The girl in the brilliant dress was still sleeping.

until next time...c