I really try hard to be more tolerant of people
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
JWS offered to go with me.
JWS' morning routine
is that I bring him coffee
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,
or cleaned out a cupboard,
updated my blog,
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
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
But it is morning and I know to leave him alone.
He is driving faster and faster
and he pulls into to Sheetz
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."
So I do that.
Now anyone who has ever been to a Sheetz at Five AM
that a blonde 50ish woman
with nice clothes
is going to stand out
But then, when you make a rushing scene
of running in,
and running out,
when you are
1.) The only woman in the place
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
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,
two hours later,
we arrive at the hospital.
JWS' pain has lessened
now he is sick from my driving.
Skip to 9:15,
Dad is going down to surgery
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,
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.
twelve one liter bottles of pop,
twelve take-out bags of fast food,
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
drain the complimentary coffee pot
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,
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,
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
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.
who apparently thought we had complained,
kept stomping right by where we were sitting
"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?
I did get two more scarves finished!