The Waiting

Caffeine wasn't that fun to kick, but I've been off the smack for about two weeks now. Countless headaches and bouts of withdrawal later, I'm sober.

Working out and having a desire to exercise wasn't that difficult to acquire. The gym was my home away from home for a few precious visits.

And then my health took a sudden turn for the worse. My simple goals became insignificant and I wound up in the hospital for mysterious pains.

The past few days seemed never ending and were filled with waiting and listening.

Monday at around five in the morning, the pains still wouldn't cease after over two days. An absurd fifteen hour visit to a dysfunctional city hospital left me with few clues and more premature wrinkles than I care to share. At this hospital, aside from waiting around, receiving multiple tests, and being introduced to a haze of halfhearted staff members, I witnessed some of the many highs and lows of the ER.

The first low was listening as a guy threw up what sounded to be everything from his body, organs and all. He moaned and sighed every few minutes in agony as the spew kept coming. Another patient busily berated any hospital worker to come in contact with her, complaining of sub par care and screaming when she wasn't wheeled down a hallway with her mother.

Laughing about this crazy woman and another highly inebriated woman were the high points of the visit. At least the drunkard made jokes. She croaked to one doctor, "Why you white?" To which the doctor replied, "That's just the way they made me." Aside from the kisses the lush bestowed on an EMT worker, her best line of the evening was "Why all you white people? This looks like the KKK up in here."

By far the worst experience came after sharing jokes with a man complaining of chest pains and shortness of breath. We were partners in sarcastic misery, talking and laughing along with our significant others about how poor the hospital care was thus far. After more of his test results came back, this man was told that he most likely has lymphoma and will need to seek treatment for cancer immediately. Through a thin curtain, I heard this man swallow deeply as he heard the news. I heard him cry with his wife as he held her in his arms and told her. All of their sorrow and disbelief was on display for the whole room. I ached for this man, his beautiful wife, and their toddler. I wanted to reach out and hold them or offer anything I could. Their sadness seeped through me.

After spending so many hours in the city hospital, any treatment from a beautiful suburban hospital would have been endlessly better. Alas, I didn't receive any definitive results. My ailments could be many things, though one specific mark was picked up during my tests.

My visits will only lead to more unfortunately. And in the words of Tom Petty, "the waiting is the hardest part..."