The Waiting Room

I am still not sure I believe in ‘Hell’ but if I deserve to go there I can tell you for certain that it will be rendered in the image of a fracture clinic waiting room.

I will try to register for my wrongdoings but I will be turned away to get a number and sit, listening to the incredibly high voice of the receptionist call out number after number after number.  Repeatedly, she will tell others they have to sit down and wait for theirs.  “Eighty niiiiiiine… Ninety oooooone… Ninety threeeee.” Me! A false sense of excitement will soon be squelched.

I will get registered to pay for my sins and I will ask if it will be long, wondering if I might get a coffee before retribution. “There’s only one person ahead of you” I will be told, and then I will hear nearly a dozen other names called as I sit across a not-wide-enough-for-a-wheelchair aisle from some poor sucker who will think I want to chat with them.

Sneezing, hacking, sniffing and laboured moans will be the soundtrack to my Hell.

I will try to read my book, a page-turner in other situations, only to repeat the same line in the same paragraph each time I look up after each bodily expression of discomfort and annoyance.

Windowless, opaque pastel light will surround all of us in the waiting room as we stare, jaws clenched at the constant stream of shitty breakfast TV “news.”

I will finally be called, to be brought to the next level of clinic purgatory.

image

Curtains can’t block the sounds of my doctor “milking” something from someone else’s injury (clearly a symbol as punishment for sins).

This is my version of Hell.

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2 comments
  1. Lori Bigwood said:

    Well written Lee-Anne! xoxo Lori The best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but when each individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other person’s good qualities.

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