Tuesday, April 16, 2013

waiting room

SB's sister woke us up with a phone call to talk to him about the horror and strain of spending hours, days and weeks in that beige drywall waiting room at the Boston hospital where their father eventually passed away after contracting a chest infection following surgery.  I can attest to the long, monotonous time spent there by the scores of random pictures that he sent to me featuring everything from the warning signs to the hospital apparatuses to the motion sensor controlled drinking fountain that only operated to motion at the groin level (yes, I have a few pictures of him making pelvic thrusts at the fountain).

It seemed like a random phone call but not totally unexpected because they are still processing through their grief.  Then after the call ended we turned on the news and learned about the bombings in Boston and understood why his sister was suddenly remembering the hospital waiting room ordeal.  My heart goes out to all the people who are playing the waiting game as their loved ones are being treated.

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