Just being in the waiting room seems to confer a certain street cred. There is an unspoken solidarity here among people from all walks of life in this spartan, sometimes stinking, uncomfortably furnished room. I, like them, have a loved one just feet away in some life-threatening medical crisis. I’ve come here and now find myself seated in a room of complete strangers, all our minds racing about what is happening to our father/wife/mother-in-law/brother next door. Somehow knowing the person sitting across from me is experiencing something close to what I am opens the door to conversation.
There was Ivory who is waiting on news of his mother-in-law. Before you know it you know about his brother who plays for the Charlotte symphony. You know about how he is raising his grandson who is playing quietly at his side. You know of his own struggle with a rare bone disease that causes him pain and forced him to retire early. There was Dave whose wife was diagnosed with the same rare form of lymphoma as my dad only two months ago after several misdiagnoses. Their friends describe this forty-something woman as salt of the earth type who had recently accomplished her dream of opening a bakery. “We just ordered cookies from her for our party last fall”, said one friend. She is not doing well. Dave looks grave every time I see him in the hallway. In these polite conversations are threads of peoples’ lives, the pain of an estranged son, retirement dreams never to be realized, fear of death, and hope for better days. How is it that these deeply intimate truths are being exchanged with complete strangers?
In some ways it’s cathartic to be able to tell your own story to someone who understands what you’re going through. It was a long day of people in and out of this room and as I sit and reflect I realize, for whatever reason, we’re leaving ICU tonight with good news. My dad, though not well, is feebly back on track toward recovery from his transplant. Yet, some we talked to were not comforted by such reports. Some we talked to today have a loved one that may not last until the weekend. Maybe it wouldn’t be so cathartic were I in their place.