Have spent the past 5 hours with my youngest (all is relative, he’s 15,5 yrs old) waiting to get his shin bone checked out at the hospital, after receiving a massive kick while playing soccer. With approximately 12-15, or, if I really stretch it, perhaps even 20 minutes of those hours spent actually meeting medical staff. The rest; waiting.
Fascinating setup, I must say.
With the added spice of the extra steps implemented to protect both staff, patients and next-of-kin from possible Covid-19 infection.
And (number I).
I am grateful. Truly.
All is well, the bone looked fine on the x-rays, and we are lucky to live in a place where a big bump on the leg gets this much attention.
And (number II).
I am also tired.
I brought a book along with me but had absolutely no wherewithal to read. It’s energy-draining to wait in this type of the unknown, even though I sing its praise (the unknown, that is) most of the time.
I also have a son that is 15,5 years old. His birthday is in november, and yours?
Oh, these hours in hospital with kids with different forms of pain … and today… grown-ups. And yes in the waitingroom it’s like an inbetween, like a quarantin maybe… and a space for… being.
Oh, glad to hear everything’s OK. And … worrying about your child is tiring even outside of that inbetween-world a waiting room is …