the    sides

It’s 1,000 degrees in this room and I’m antsy, anxious, irritable. I hate waiting. I hate it in hospitals. There is no clearer testament as to how powerless we are than a hospital waiting room. The staff try to make it as comfortable as possible – constant updates from the nurses, free beverages. It’s a nice touch but it doesn’t take away the complete utter insanity of waiting.

There’s a television showing a program that nobody would ever choose to watch – “The View.” A room full of opinionated women? I mean, really? Who would CHOOSE to watch that? Are there people who actually think this is good television?

Conversations are pinging from sports, weather, and kids – as in grandkids.

There is no cell reception but I get texts and free wi-fi. Just as well. I’m not feeling like much of a conversationalist right now.

Monotony is broken up with an Auburn fan walking by. He says to my Alabama sweatshirt “War Eagle.” I look up, smile. “Roll Tide. Good luck in Tampa.”

“Beat the #$%! out of Texas, okay?”

I think about the theological impossibility of that. Many quick retorts come to mind but only “They’ll do their best” comes out.

My mom would appreciate this conversation as she is an Alabama fan and has never turned down an opportunity to get the family history of anyone from Alabama. If mom was here, this man would be forced to tell me where he was born, his grandparents name and maiden names, his high school and perhaps his first car. There’s a 60% chance she’d be related to him, 90% chance of her knowing somebody in the man’s life.

But none of that happens. It’s not that I don’t care but…I don’t, who am I kidding? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either. I mean, we’re both waiting in a hospital lobby just trying to find something to keep us sane for the next few minutes, hours, or however long we are destined to wait.

In Lawrence, my buddy and his bride are probably getting ready to welcome their first child. I’ll get by there later. It will be a completely different feel. Dramatic what a floor makes in a hospital.

Then tonight…I’ll roll into our driveway and I’ll remember that today is my anniversary. 18 years ago, she said yes.

I think I’ll pickup some flowers on the way home.