Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Stories

You can't walk out of a hospital without having stories. Your stories, other people's stories, everything. You meet someone in the lobby and they're going to have a story. Why are they here? Well, unless they work here, someone they love is getting special care, something that can't be cured with a box of tissues and meds from the drugstore. It's a level up.

The lady sitting across from us pointed her chin at the door. "You just keep an eye on that. This beeper doesn't work." She held up the flashing lighted device in disdain. "The surgeon came out and it never notified me!"

We looked at each other for a beat, each wondering why the other was here but not really wanting to chat. She went first.

"I've been here 10x so far in the past several months."

Ouch. We all winced. 10x? Must be serious. Fuck.

"Cancer. Stage 4. The treatment isn't working. After this surgery I'm selling everything I own and taking him to Mexico for a treatment they don't approve here. It probably won't work. I don't care. We've run out of options and I just can't give up."

We nodded gravely. We hugged, complete strangers in a strange waiting room. Something caught in my throat and I turned away. Worlds collide in hospitals and people are never the same when they collide. We become amalgamations of each others' experiences. In this way, we are never truly separate, and never truly alone.