Monday, June 4, 2012

the people of the waiting room {just like the people of walmart, only classier}

**Disclaimer ~ this isn't my usual upbeat, irreverent run-of-the-mill blog post. It's kinda heavy so be forewarned.**

Day 8. Meaning I've spent most of the last 8 days in the Critical Care Unit of the ICU at my friendly neighborhood hospital. A good time has been had by all, natch.

What is it about hospital waiting rooms that brings out the worst of humanity? I mean it's bad enough that we have to spend time there ... And not to be irreverent, but Michael has been such poor company this week. I think he's mad ~ he won't even play rock, paper, scissors with me. It's kinda like watching paint dry and expecting it to interact with you. Totally productive.

Some of my most difficult days as of late have been accompanied with my *already raw as hell* nerves being further taunted by *The People of the Waiting Room*. You know who they are. The People of WalMart transported from your favorite horrifying discount store to your local hospital. I've become accustomed to walking through the hospital with my sunglasses on so no one will try to speak to me. It's really better for all of us.

They're like the Clampetts in spandex. And not one of them has all of his teeth. They take over the entire place and loudly debate politics {you know Obama is clearly a socialist} and which section 8 housing they're moving into next, all whilst dragging their catheter bags on the floor {I only wish I were kidding}. They bring their children and let them run rampant allthelivelongday ~ rearranging furniture while you try to sleep and generally being children in a place where children simply do not belong. The ICU is not a place you go for a paper cut or a nose job, so why, why, why are they here? Especially if you won't reel them in. Oh M. Jesus {pronounced hey-zeus for those unfamiliar with such advanced terminology} what have I done in my life to warrant this? I can honestly tell you that murder has crossed my mind more times this week than it has in the past decade.

And I don't understand why they always have to be there. All I want is a little peace. And the chance to look at babies because they remind me of the good things happening in the hospital. Which you cannot do, btw. There's no happy nursery full of shiny, new babies waiting to fulfill their destinies anymore. All of the babies are in their own rooms with their mothers. Don't they realize that I have needs!?! I briefly proposed that we COULD go into one of the new mother's rooms and demand to see her newborn baby because we needed a brief happy place, but *apparently* that's frowned upon. I also decided that being arrested would probably not benefit my week. And I wouldn't do well in prison.

So now every time I step onto on the elevator, I pray that they're not there. But that also means that maybe their week has been more painful than it should have been, and I wouldn't wish that for them. Bad teeth and all. But I do so wish they'd find another floor to taunt. I've had more than my share.