She sits in the hospital waiting room waiting. Not that there would be much else for her to do. She can't assist with anything nor can she participate in anything. So she is just waiting.
She looks around the waiting room. Actually looks. In her 27 years she had never really looked around a hospital waiting room. It was the most diverse place anyone would ever sit. And everyone was doing what she was doing. Waiting.
There is the helicopter mother in the corner by the toy table. She is watching her son like a hawk. Waiting. Just waiting for the cough, the cough that she was sure her son would die of as the son crashes Thomas the Tank Engine into what is supposed to be California Barbie but is so missed matched that she looks like Thrift Store Barbie. The son squeals with high pitched laugher as Thrift Store Barbie goes flying into the wall. All while the mother sits there. Waiting.
Tucked back in the corner furthest from the admittance doors is the bum that the doctors and nurses pretend isn't there so that he can sleep in a warm spot. Just waiting for the day shift to come when he'll go out to the street and sit with his "Homeless. God bless" sign and wait for some kind soul to come and take pity on him. Maybe one day he'll have enough money to buy his luck back. Until then, he'll keep up this game. Waiting.
She pulls her eyes from the depressing bum and focuses upon the man who obviously has more important things to do sitting in front of her. Despite the ten signs and the dirty looks he is on his cell phone. To inpatient to wait until later to find out what he is missing at work due to his pesky nonstop bleeding hand. Obviously he believes he should be seen next for he keeps shouting, "You know what I've been doing for the past two hours? Waiting!"
Curled up in a ball a few seats down from the man is a frightened teenage girl waiting for someone to notice but hoping that no one will at the same time. She has bruises on her face and scars she has covered up. It is obvious that all she wants to do is escape this life. So she is sitting there to see if someone will give her the light of day so she can finally decide how her life will play out. She is so sick. Sick of all the waiting.
A doctor walks out the admittance door and the 27 year old looks up. Waiting to see if it is for her. Instead he calls over the man who has more important things to do. As he walks in, he exclaims "Finally! I am so sick of waiting!"
She looks down at her lap and sighs. She too is sick of waiting. Yet she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to stop waiting. What if her waiting led her to feel like the teenage girl and feel numb inside? What if it led to her never having the opportunity to be that helicopter parent? What if it led to her getting into a pattern of constantly waiting for someone to take pity on her like the bum? Maybe it was better to keep waiting.
"Mrs. Gallows?" She looks up to see a doctor calling to her from the admittance doors. She takes a deep breath, gets up, and walks over to him. Looking into his eyes, she waits for his next words.
"Mrs. Gallows I need to talk to you about your husband."
