The Art of Waiting

Hello everyone, I wanted to share a few scribbles I wrote down during my time spent in a cardiovascular center waitroom :)

Things people do while waiting, an incomplete list:

call loved ones

make friendship bracelets

call takeout

leg bounce

watch internet videos outloud 

watch videos with headphones

eat snacks

a lot of snacks

sleep in uncomfortable positions

go for a walk

get coffee

lots of coffee

watch the board

organize purses

read history novels

why do people always want coffee?

rarely, talk to neighbors

comment on the weather 

Whenever I find myself sitting on the uncomfortable synthetic chairs of any classic waitroom, I begin to feel entirely compelled to reflect. There is so much to say about waiting rooms. there are the obvious threads of metaphors to pull. Something about time, or something about the in-between. All I can really write about is what I learned from my time as a wait room observer. 

The context of what I learned is the kind of person I am. I am someone who fundamentally loves people and watching. This might be why I enjoy another commonly detested place, the airport. This is why I am drawn to healthcare in general; people. Perhaps it is because of this that I seemed to focus on one aspect, or rather person, from my time spent in the CVC waiting room.

On my first day, I was introduced to Andrea, the waitroom supervisor. I knew upon meeting her that my experience would be anything but mundane. She whirled from person to person, tracking each quick step on her bright pink fitbit, carefully explaining medical procedures she herself had never observed, the complicated tracking system, remembering first names, noticing even new haircuts. As I followed in her footsteps I found myself feeling lighter on my feet, smiling more, attempting more jokes and small talk. 

There was an underbelly of emotion in a place like the waitroom. Tension that could be seen in all the time-passing activities. Worry found in every brow. It was depressing and at first, even as a visitor, I felt the weight of the atmosphere. Andrea navigated it like a steady boat in the midst of huge ocean swells as I trailed along behind her. Humor and quirk were her mighty sails.

She could take it all. A stern faced woman with a vein straight down her forehead and a sick husband once yelled in her face. Actually yelled. Andrea took her hand and said she was sorry. Sorry that the wife couldn’t go back with the husband, and with her gentleness in the face of all that projected anger she said she was sorry for it all. 

She would regale me with tales of her small town and show me videos of coyotes white against a grainy night scene from doorbell cameras. We would discuss Christmas gifts for her niece or browse various online shopping sites for clothes we both knew she would never order, always finding something off like the shade of a zipper or the shape of a heel. Her mind bounced from topic to topic, always ready to jump up when someone new arrived, sensing when her presence was wanted by a family and when it wasn't. She was kind to everyone. It was clear she was overworked and underpaid, but more obvious than her exhaustion was her generosity.

Unlike the patients and myself, her realm was the waiting room. She was not passing through. Her kindness transformed the stagnant dread into something hopeful. Lightness within the dark shines so much brighter than a candle in a lit room. As a pre-med student I can get wrapped up in the idea of “good experience.” I began volunteering with a simplistic understanding of my ultimate goal, to better understand what it means to work in healthcare through patient care experience. By the end of my time with Andrea I ultimately walked away with a better understanding of people. 

I had a more complete sense of what it means to be kind, to be patient. I learned how important it can be to be defiantly bright.  I saw an example of what it means to truly care for patients, starting from when they first sit down in the waiting room. I learned how to create connections within the short time I spent with each patient and their family. It was an invaluable experience and I can’t wait to be inspired by the brilliant healthcare professionals I have yet to meet. 

Lots of love,

Emerson