Son, Husband and I have spent a lot of time in various doctors’ waiting rooms over the last year or so, waiting and waiting and WAITING.
I can’t stand waiting. If I am meeting someone for lunch or something and they are late, I get cross; if I am heading for traffic lights and they turn from green to orange, I race ahead because red lights make me see red, especially when the red takes a century to turn green; if I ask Son to do a chore and he says, “just give me a minute”, I want to strangle him; if I am on the freeway and I get stuck behind one of those morons drivers who is in the passing lane but doesn’t pass the the driver in the slow lane, grrrrr … well, you get the picture.
So yesterday, while I waited for Son’s operation to be over with and for the hospital to ring me, the waiting nearly killed me. All of the seconds became minutes and all of the minutes became hours and all of the hours became days. I watched two videos in my hotel room (but I can’t remember what they were about); I went for walks around the city with my mobile phone clutched in my shirt pocket against my heart; I came back to the hotel and ate and drank everything from the minibar; I made a million phonecalls to tell people I was still waiting; I had three showers and two naps; I blogged; I read all of the magazines in the hotel room, so now I am an expert in Perth fashion; I rang the hospital five times; I rang Husband five times … well, you get the picture.
Since Son is still in ICU, I am staying in Perth for one more night and good friends are checking on animals for me. I’m sure Godfrey will be waiting too, with great anticipation, for my return. After all, it’s been nearly three days since he’s been able to do his favourite thing which is to bite me. Wait away, Godfrey!
And now I’m off to the hospital again (hotel is only two blocks away) to see Son and wait for his transfer from ICU to a ward. I have been told that this will happen some time after 4pm so I anticipate some more waiting – mmmmmmm!
