Vignettes From A Waiting Room

Most of my morning was in a waiting room at the UNC Hospital where I had an appointment.  Nothing is wrong, thank you; I just needed a test.  While in that waiting room, as I usually do, I enjoyed watching the people.  The three following small stories made the waiting very interesting.

A lady came in with a small boy.  He was probably four years old, and was very nervous.  Mommy reassured him that he was not going to get a shot, that they were there for Mommy.  Then she had to reassure him that she was not going to get a shot either.  Once that was accomplished, she sat him facing her in her lap, and they began one of the most beautiful and interesting exchanges I've witnessed with a parent and small child.

They began to responsively sing the ABC song, with an interesting twist.  She would sing the song to a letter, and stop.  Then she would give a word that began with that letter.  They must have begun the ritual before arriving at the waiting room because she started with G.  He then sang the entire song until he reached H.  He stopped, and then gave a word that began with H.

They continued this back and forth until they were called out to their appointment, at which they had just completed T.  He was never really at a loss thinking of a word beginning with whatever letter was his.  I thought that this was a really beautiful learning process.

When they left, I reached for my pen and pad of paper to write some notes to remind me of their process.  And, the pad wasn't in my pocket.  The first time I've needed it recently, and it was on the dresser at home.  So I went over to a small hand-washing sink and pulled out one of the paper towels from the dispenser, sat back down and began to write my notes.  There were two ladies sitting next to me, and one handed me a yellow steno pad, and said to use it, that she had tried writing on towels and that it never worked out.

I took it, and began to write the notes I would need to write the above paragraphs.  Then they were called to their appointment.  I tore off the top sheet and tried to give the pad back.  She told me to keep it, that she had more, and wished me well.  I kept the pad, and added notes about their gift of the steno pad.

Several times during the morning a young girl would rotate into and out of the waiting room.  She had a pale green paper mask over the lower half of her face.  When she and I were the only ones in the room, I asked her if I could ask an impertinent question.  She said yes, and I asked whether she was wearing the mask to protect herself or those around her.  She said herself, adding that the reactions she got from people was often funny.

We then had a conversation about masks.  I observed that when I was in the Orient, I saw that people there wore masks regularly.  She said that in Japan they had decorated masks.  We talked for a few minutes, and then it was my turn to be called out.

My appointment took much longer than it should have, but the plus side of the waiting was watching others in the waiting room.  The mother and child simply made my morning.  That and the writing pad gift refreshed my sense of the goodness of people.  There is much to be learned about people watching them when they are under stress in a hospital waiting room.  I hope that if others are watching me that I give a good accounting of myself and my personality.  These people certainly did of themselves.