I am waiting. Again. Along with a roomful of other people, fully half of which also show signs of being impatient waiters.
We've been here since 11:20. It's now 12:57. Kevin and his nurse walked back to the surgery suite at 12:41, IV already in place, all set to start.
The fact that I know, to the minute, when he was led away is testimony to my clock watching tendencies.
The waiting will be fine up to an hour. That's my worry point for a sigmoidoscopy. After an hour, things have usually gotten more complicated in some way and my clock watching, leg bouncing impatience will become obvious.
With plenty of time to go in my worry-free hour, though, I can people watch in between being chatted up by several elderly patients who are intrigued by my computer's ability to be "on the 'net with no wires or plugs." It seems to be senior day at the surgical center; Kevin is among the few patients who appear to be under 65 or 70.
Most of the people in the room, though, are waiters, like me. Waiting for a patient to be called back to surgery or waiting for one to come out. They stream up to the reception desk in turns to ask about time...an appointment hour that's passed, how long until the patient is in recovery, released, returning for a check up. While my policy is not to ask about him until it appears he's been lost--and in pushing 2 years worth of this stuff, that's the one thing that hasn't happened--I know the leg bouncing, toe tapping, watch checking rhythm of the anxious and impatient.
Another senior peeks over to see my computer in action. She talks about her amazement at learning something new each day no matter where she finds herself.
We've been here since 11:20. It's now 12:57. Kevin and his nurse walked back to the surgery suite at 12:41, IV already in place, all set to start.
The fact that I know, to the minute, when he was led away is testimony to my clock watching tendencies.
The waiting will be fine up to an hour. That's my worry point for a sigmoidoscopy. After an hour, things have usually gotten more complicated in some way and my clock watching, leg bouncing impatience will become obvious.
With plenty of time to go in my worry-free hour, though, I can people watch in between being chatted up by several elderly patients who are intrigued by my computer's ability to be "on the 'net with no wires or plugs." It seems to be senior day at the surgical center; Kevin is among the few patients who appear to be under 65 or 70.
Most of the people in the room, though, are waiters, like me. Waiting for a patient to be called back to surgery or waiting for one to come out. They stream up to the reception desk in turns to ask about time...an appointment hour that's passed, how long until the patient is in recovery, released, returning for a check up. While my policy is not to ask about him until it appears he's been lost--and in pushing 2 years worth of this stuff, that's the one thing that hasn't happened--I know the leg bouncing, toe tapping, watch checking rhythm of the anxious and impatient.
Another senior peeks over to see my computer in action. She talks about her amazement at learning something new each day no matter where she finds herself.
Today I'll set aside the worry in favor of the wonder. I'm going to post this and pop up the front page of my blog...the seniors are going to love the pixel by pixel crawl of my inchworm followed by a burst of butterflies.
I may not have patience, but I can pass the time with wonder-filled patients.
I may not have patience, but I can pass the time with wonder-filled patients.
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