Limiting Loved Ones

So,

I really try hard to be more tolerant of people

and

human nature

as I get older.

Some days just push my resolve a little more.

Yesterday was one of them.

My Dad was having gall bladder surgery

in Ohio.

JWS offered to go with me.

JWS' morning routine

is that I bring him coffee

in bed

at 6:30.

Ninety percent of his mornings start that way.

He watches the news and wakes up.

I shut the bedroom door and try to be quiet

while I have already usually been up for two hours,

walked three miles,

painted something

or cleaned out a cupboard,

updated my blog,

Well anyway,

I am a morning person,

he is not.

So this is how yesterday went.

Up at 3:30,

both of us.

Out the door at

4:40 AM.

Twelve miles away,

drop stuff at Shawnee's,

pick up stuff at Shawnee's

to take to my Mom.

(Wedding stuff...believe me, another whole post for another time.)

It was all left in her car, so no one was awakened.

I notice JWS shifting

and

squirming

and

not talking.

But it is morning and I know to leave him alone.

He is driving faster and faster

and he pulls into to Sheetz

and

through clenched teeth hisses,

"Go in there and get my Tums and bring them out,

get two packs, throw one on the counter

and bring the other pack out to me

then go back and pay for them."

Alrighty then!

So I do that.

Now anyone who has ever been to a Sheetz at Five AM

would know

that a blonde 50ish woman

with nice clothes

and jewelry

is going to stand out

anyway,

But then, when you make a rushing scene

of running in,

stealing Tums

and running out,

when you are

1.) The only woman in the place

and

2.) The only person in there NOT in a camo hat.

everyone is looking.

I throw the Tums at JWS,

who is not looking good,

and go back and pay for them

and

go back out to find him holding his chest,

walking around in the car wash

saying not nice words.

OK people it is 5 AM!!!

Finally we determine

that it is not

THE BIG ONE

and he sits back down in the driver seat.

Still standing outside the car,

I gently tell him,

"OK, if there is any chance that this might still be  

THE BIG ONE,

I would prefer to not go with you...

I WILL DRIVE FROM HERE!"

So, foggy, detours,

city driving

97 miles

and

two hours later,

we arrive at the hospital.

JWS' pain has lessened

and

now he is sick from my driving.

Skip to 9:15,

Dad is going down to surgery

and

we are to wait

in the family waiting room.

This is the third time

Mom and I have spent the day in this waiting room

in the last three weeks.

This is the third time that this similar event has happened.

This is JWS' first experience.

The waiting room is really nice,

large television,

a nice volunteer to help you,

kitchen with complimentary coffee,

table and chairs,

I am sure that you have all been in them.

Small groups (2-3 people)

waiting for their loved ones to come out of surgery.

And then it happens.

TWELVE adult and two toddler loved ones arrive

for one loved one

that is having surgery.

Complete with

strollers,

blankets,

twelve one liter bottles of pop,

twelve take-out bags of fast food,

and

five large shopping bags of bag snacks.

One of the twelve immediately

gets the remote for the tv,

adjusts the channel

and turns it up

to a higher decibel level

than all their voices.

Several of the twelve

immediately

drain the complimentary coffee pot

and

start to systematically

try to empty the two vending machines.

Mom and I sit there calmly,

we have seen it all before.

JWS is staring in bewilderment,

and

I text my mom,

"Now JWS is about to get the true experience"

and we laugh and watch it happen.

He begins to sweat.

We are there from 9:30 until 2:30

and in that time,

this family

hit the cafeteria

for take out,

ate all the bag snacks that they brought,

drank all the pop,

answered their loud ring tone cell phones,

played games on cell phones

and

Ipads

without the sound turned down,

loudly laughed and hooted

over daytime sit-coms,

and were generally rude and disruptive.

The final straw came

when the volunteer finally told them

that they would have to take the

screaming toddler out of there.

The mother,

who apparently thought we had complained,

kept stomping right by where we were sitting

loudly proclaiming

"It's a baby, can't ANYONE understand that?"

The next stomp,

less than a minute later,

"APPARENTLY SOME PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND BABIES!"

(I should have shown her the pic of the six I have at that point)

The stomps and rants continued

and still I kept quiet.

I mean we were outnumbered

four to one,

if you don't count the babies.

And after all, they were sugared and carbed up

and we hadn't had anything to eat all day.

The odds were not in our favor

for a rumble.

I have to admit,

while I was glad to see my Dad

come out of surgery,

I was more relieved to be leaving that waiting room.

And the moral of the story:

Loved ones should be limited,

at least in hospital waiting rooms.

And the question to ponder:

Who has that many loved ones

that don't have jobs?

But,

I did get two more scarves finished!